The Pteam and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by KibaLover2211
Summary: The third enstallment of my version of the Harry Potter book series. Thank you so much to those of you who've been following the story so far, I'm really grateful. More adventures with Harry Potter and his best friend, Cheyenne Power. Come in and find out how things go for this duo during their third year of Hogwarts. New challenges and adventures await, but can they survive?
1. Owl Post

**Disclaimer - I do **_**not **_**own the Harry Potter series, plot or any of the original characters. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Scholastic Press.**

**Chapter One**

**Owl Post**

Harry Potter and I, Cheyenne Power, were a highly unusual couple of young adults in many ways. For one thing, we hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, we really wanted to do our homework but were forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And we also happened to be a witch and a wizard.

It was nearly midnight, and we were each lying on our stomachs in his bed, the blankets drawn tight over our heads like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather bound book (_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against his pillow. He'd asked for help with his homework tonight and I'd gladly said I'd help, but reminded him that I wouldn't share answers from my own homework, knowing he wouldn't learn that way. Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as we looked for something that would help him write his essay, "Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless - discuss." He read from his page and I flipped through the book silently, searching for the page needed.

His quill paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose as I asked him to shift the flashlight's light up and he moved it closer to the book so I could whisper read to him:

_Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises._

Putting his quill between his teeth, Harry reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, we'd probably find ourselves locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that neither Harry nor I really enjoyed our summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were my and Harry's only living relatives, even if they were not blood-related to me in the slightest. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic. My and Harry's dead parents, who had been witches and wizards themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept both Harry and I as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of us. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry and I had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away my and Harry's spellbooks, wands, cauldrons, and broomsticks at the start of the summer break, and forbid us to talk to the neighbors.

This separation from our spellbooks had been a real problem for both Harry and I, because our teachers had Hogwarts had given us both a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for my and Harry's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give us both detention for a month. Harry and I had therefore seized our chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Harry and I had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of our books, and hidden them in our shared bedroom. As long as we didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that we were studying magic by night.

Harry and I were particularly keen to avoid trouble with our aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with us, all because we'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation.

Ron Weasley, noe of my and Harry's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry and I didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

Harry and I, both of whom had happened to be in the room at the time, froze as we heard Ron's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I - WANT - TO - TALK - TO - HARRY - POTTER - OR - CHEYENNE - POWER -"

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON - WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "I'M - A - FRIEND - OF - HARRY - AND - CHEYENNE'S - FROM - SCHOOL -"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Harry and I, both of us rooted to our spots.

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER OR CHEYENNE POWER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT MY AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever.

"HOW DARE YOU TWO GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE - PEOPLE LIKE _YOU!"_ Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying both Harry and I with spit.

Ron had obviously realized that he'd gotten the two of us into trouble, because he hadn't called again. My and Harry's other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. Harry and I suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in our year, had Muggle parents and knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

So neither Harry nor I had received word from any of our wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. There was just one very small improvement - after swearing that we wouldn't use either of them to send letters to any of our friends, Harry and I had been allowed to let our owls, Hedwig and Elon, out at night. Uncle Vernon had give in because of the racket they both made if they were locked in their cages all the time.

I watched Harry finish writing about Wendelin the Weird and then pause to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of our enormous cousin, Dudley. _It must be very late_, I thought silently, looking at Harry, his eyes looking red and itchy. My eyes weren't feeling all that good either and we agreed to finish the essay tomorrow night. . . .

He replaced the top of the ink bottle and pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed, turning out the flashlight before putting it, _A History of Magic_, his essay, quill, and ink inside the pillowcase. He slid from his bed and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed as I slid off the bed after him and stood, stretching my arms over my head and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on the bedside table.

It was one o'clock in the morning. I blinked in surprise, my stomach churning. Harry had been thirteen years old, without either of us realizing it, for a whole hour.

Yet another unusual thing about Harry and I was how little we looked forward to our birthdays. We had never received a store bought birthday card in our lives. The Dursleys had completely ignored Harry's last two birthdays, and I knew he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Harry and I walked across the dark room, past Hedwig and Elon's large, empty cages, to the open window. He leaned on the sill and I stood next to him, the cool night air pleasant on our faces after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig and Elon had both been absent for two nights now. Neither of us were worried about them though: they'd been gone this long before. But we hoped they'd be back soon - they were the only living creatures in this house who didn't flinch at the sight of us.

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been - stubbornly untidy, whatever he or I did to it. The eyes behind his thin wire glasses were bright green. Like Harry, I was small and skinny for my age, but I'd at least gained an inch over the last year as well. I was about a foot taller than Harry, but he was closing the gap and would no doubt be taller than I am now in just a few short years. My dirty blond hair remained much the same, growing in wavy strands to my waist and curling lightly at the ends. Behind my white rectangular glasses, my eyes were a greenish hazel. On both our foreheads, clearly visible through our hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Of all the unusual things about Harry and I, these scars were the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed both our parents, because Lilly and James Potter and Kristin and Mark Power had not died in a car crash. They had all been nurdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry and I had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on each of our foreheads, where Voldemort's curse, instead of killing us, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled. . . .

But Harry and I had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering our last meeting as we stood at the dark window, we both had to admit we were lucky even to have reached thirteen.

We scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig or Elon, perhaps soaring back to us with a dead mouse dangling from their beaks, expecting praise. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it only took a few seconds for us to realize what we were seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lodpsided creature, a smaller figure circling it, and it was flapping in our direction. We stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. We glanced quickly at each other, wondering, for a split second, if we should slam the window shut. Harry's hand was on the latch and we looked again at the creature. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Private Drive, and Harry and I, realizing what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft _flump _on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Harry and I recognized the unconscious owl at once - his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. I heard Errol give a feeble hoot of thanks before something softly brushed my cheek and a slight pressure squeezed my shoulder. I turned my head slightly.

A handsome raven black owl sat on my shoulder, hooting softly. I smiled at him, "Hey Elon, how've you been, boy?" I said, gently petting his head. He hooted again and nibbled my ear affectionately. I giggled and turned my attention to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was Harry's own owl, Hedwig. She, like Errol, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol. Elon rubbed the top of his head against my cheek before spreading his wings and joining his companions at the water dish.

Neither Harry nor I recognized the fourth owl, a handsome tawny one, but we knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying two letters bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.

Harry and I sat down on his bed and Harry grabbed Errol's package, ripping off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold, and his first ever store bought birthday card. With trembling fingers, I watched him open the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out - a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and, with me leaning over his shoulder, read:

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual _Daily Prophet _Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the _Daily Prophet,_ "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Harry and I scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across both our faces as we saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at us, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley, tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Neither Harry nor I could think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. I picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it, reading it quietly:

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you or Cheyenne a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted._

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and neither of you would believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

_I couldn't believe it when Dad won the _Daily Prophet _Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year._

Harry and I remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car Harry and Ron had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds.

_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you two there?_

_Don't let the Muggles get either of you down!_

_Try and come to London,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

Harry and I glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fex perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

_Harry - this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup_

_Bye -_

Ron

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. We looked at it quietly for a few seconds, then he picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

_Dear Harry and Cheyenne,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're both all right._

_I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you - what if they'd opened it at customs? - but then Hedwig and Elon turned up! I think they wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change, Harry. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_ (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you both see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he'd learning loads. I'm really jealous - the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

_There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long - it's two rolls of parchment more thn Professor Binns asked for._

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you both make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you two can. If not, I'll see you both on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from _

Hermione

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it, though._

Harry and I laughed as he put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It looked very heavy. Knowing Hermione, I could guess it would probably be a large book full of very difficult spells - but it wasn't. I blinked in surprise as he ripped back the paper and we saw a sleek black leather case, with silvery words stamped across it, reading _Broomstick Servicing Kit._

"Wow, Hermione!" Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare._

Apart from our friends, the thing that Harry and I missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world - highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry and I happened to be very good Quidditch players; we had been the youngest people in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of my and Harry's most prized possessions were our Nimbus Two Thousand racing brooms.

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up the last parcel. We recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and two rectangular parcels fell out. We glimpsed something green and leathery, but before we could unwrap either of them properly, each parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside each snapped loudly - as though it had jaws.

Harry and I froze. We knew that Hagrid would never send us anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Harry poked the parcel on top nervously. It snapped loudly again, causing the one underneath to do the same. I quickly handed Harry the lamp on his bedside table and hid behind him, folding my legs under my body to keep them out of harms' way. He gripped the lamp firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled.

And out fell - two books. Harry and I just had time to register their handsome green covers, both emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster Book of Monsters_, before they both flipped onto their edges and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crabs.

"Uh-oh," Harry and I muttered, glancing at each other.

The books toppled off the bed with a couple of loud clunks and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry and I followed them stealthily. His book was hiding in the dark space under his desk and mine had shuffled underneath my bed. Both of us praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry and I each got down on our hands and knees and reached for them.

"Ouch!"

The books snapped shut on each of our hands and then flapped past us, still scuttling on their covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten them both. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door.

Hedwig, Errol and Elon watched interestedly as Harry and I clamped the struggling books tightly in our arms, hurried to our chest of drawers, and pulled out a couple of belts, which we buckled tightly around each book. The _Monster Books_ shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry and I threw them down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card.

**Dear Harry,**

**Happy Birthday!**

**Think you and Cheyenne might find these useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you both. Hope the Muggles are treating you both right.**

**All the best,**

**Hagrid.**

It struck Harry and I as ominous that Hagrid thought a couple of biting books would come in useful, but Harry put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than I'd ever seen him. Now there was only the letters from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that they were each rather thicker than usual, Harry and I slit open our envelopes, pulled out the first pages of parchment within, and read:

_Dear Mr. Potter / Miss Power,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_Third years are premitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for near year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry and I pulled out the Hogsmeade permission forms and looked at them, no longer smiling or grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; we knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and we had never set foot there. But how on earth were we going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the forms?

We looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.

Deciding that we'd worry about the Hogsmeade forms when we woke up, Harry and I got in our individual beds and I watched him reach up to cross off another day on the chart we'd made for ourselves, counting down the days left until our return to Hogwarts. Then we took off our glasses and lay down. I curled up under the covers, closing my eyes and yawning softly.

Extremely unusual though we were, at that moment I knew Harry Potter felt just like everyone else - glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday. And I could honestly say I was happy too, as I, Cheyenne Power, had been the only one to ever try and do anything for his birthday and I was eternally grateful that we had such great friends.


	2. Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

**Chapter Two**

**Aunt Marge's Big Mistake**

Harry and I went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Harry and I sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed either Harry or I had entered the room, but we were far too used to this to care. We helped ourselves to a piece of toast each and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict:

". . .The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us _he's _no good," Uncle Vernon snorted, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

I saw him shoot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry's hair looked well combed and obedient.

I snorted to myself rolling my eyes, "I assume by that look that you think Harry could be in jail next, yes? What would his sentence be, not being as well-groomed and neat as the rest of the family here?" I said sarcastically, taking a bite of my toast. I could feel Uncle Vernon's eyes boring into the side of my head and out of the corner of my eye I saw him open his mouth to snap at me, but the reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today -"

"Hang on!" Uncle Vernon barked, turning furiously to the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry and I knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.

"When will they _learn_," Uncle Vernon said, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"Very true," Aunt Petunia said, still squinting into next door's runner beans.

(_What're we, in the 19th century?_) I thought as Uncle Vernon drained his teapcup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

I went to take another bite of my toast, but it went down too fast and I coughed, thumping my chest with a fist.

"Aunt Marge?" Harry and I blurted out." Sh - _she's_ not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), or certainly mine, thank goodness (being that my own mother had been adopted into Aunt Petunia's family as a child), we had been forced to call her 'Aunt' all our lives. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly in both my and Harry's minds.

At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at muscial statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits each for Harry and myself. On her last visit, the year before Harry and I started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes and spiked my anger; I liked dogs, loved them to death, but that dog of Aunt Marge's was one of the worst I had ever encountered in my whole life!

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject -" he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry and I - "we need to get a few things straight before I got and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry and I being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," Uncle Vernon growled, "you'll both keep a civil tongue in our heads when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," Harry said bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to us."

"Secondly," Uncle Vernon said, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about either of your _abnormalities,_ I don't want any - any _funny stuff_ while she's here. You both behave yourselves, got me?"

"We will if she does," I said through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," Uncle Vernon said, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Young Adults."

_"What?" _Harry yelled.

"And you'll both be sticking to that story, or there'll be trouble," Uncle Vernon spat.

Harry and I sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. I reached my hand under the table and took his, squeezing tightly. He squeezed back and I could almost feel the knuckles whiten. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit - it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

"Well, Petunia," Uncle Vernon said, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," Dudley said, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry and I.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt Petunia said, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.

Harry and I, both of us sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning our toast, we got quickly to our feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.

"I'm not taking _you two_," he snarled as he turned to see Harry and I watching him.

"Like we wanted to come," Harry and I said coldly. "We want to ask you something."

Uncle Vernon eyed us suspiciously.

"Third years at Hog -" "At our school," I cut in, glancing quickly at Harry, who smiled slightly, ". . .are allowed to visit the village sometimes," Harry finished.

"So?" Uncle Vernon snapped, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.

"We need you to sign the permission forms," I said in one breath.

"And why should I do that?" Uncle Vernon sneered.

"Well," Harry said and I knew he was choosing his words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge that Chey and I go to that St. Whatsits -"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Young Adults!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, and Harry and I were pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.

"Exactly," I said, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. We'll have to make it sound convincing, won't we? What if one of us accidentally let something slip?"

_"You'll __**both **__get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" _Uncle Vernon roared, advancing on the two of us with his fist raised. Harry wrapped a protective arm around my waist, but he and I stood our ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of us won't make Aunt Marge forget what we could tell her," we said grimly.

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign our permission forms," Harry went on quickly, "Chey and I swear we'll remember where we're supposed to go to school, and we'll act like Mug - " "Like we're normal and everything." I cut in quickly. Harry squeezed my side gratefully.

Harry and I could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he finally snapped. "I shall monitor both your behaviors carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've both toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy forms."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

Harry and I didn't return to the kitchen. We went back upstairs to our bedroom. If we were going to act like a couple of Muggles, we'd better start now. Slowly and sadly we gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with our homework. Then we went to Hedwig and Elon's cages. Errol seemed to have recovered; he, Hedwig and Elon were all asleep, heads under their wings. Harry and I sighed, then poked all three of them awake.

"Hedwig, Elon," we said gloomily, "you're both going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron'll look after you both. We'll write him a note, explaining. And don't look at us like that" - Hedwig and Elon's large amber eyes were reproachful - "it's not our faults. It's the only way we'll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione."

Ten minutes later, Errol, Elon and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry and I, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cages away inside the wardrobe.

But neither Harry nor I had long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry and I to come down and get ready to welcome our guest.

"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as we reached the hall.

Neither Harry nor I could see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticising us, so the untidier we looked, the happier she would be. I actually tussled his hair to make it untidier and he did the same for my hair.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.

A feeling of great gloom settling in my stomach, I followed Harry into the hall, standing against the wall as Harry pulled the door open.

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders?" Aunt Marge roared. "Where's my neffy-poo?"

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry's stomach and I could tell she'd just knocked the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Both Harry and I knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"Petunia!" Aunt Marge shouted, striding past Harry and I as though we were a couple of hat stands. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling joyously as he shut the door.

"Tea, Marge!" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," Aunt Marge said as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry and I alone in the hall with the suitcase. But neither of us was complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by us, so we began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as we could.

By the time we got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry and I saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," Aunt Marge boomed. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl again as Harry and I sat down. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to the two of us for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you two?"

"Yes," Harry and I said together.

"Don't either of you say 'yes' in tht ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you both. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd both have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on _my _doorstep."

Harry and I were bursting to say that we'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped us. Taking his hand in mine under the table, we both forced our faces into painful smiles.

"Don't you smirk at me!" Aunt Marge boomed. "I can see neither of you has improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you send them, again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," Uncle Vernon said promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."

(_Yeah, hopeless only because of you_.) I thought, leaning back in my chair. Harry squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"I see," Aunt Marge said. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's?" she barked across the table.

"Er -"

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "All the time." Harry added quickly, feeling we might as well do the thing properly.

"Excellent," Aunt Marge said. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have _you two _been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, "loads of times." "We'd be taken out of class most days for misbehaving and get beaten." I added.

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like either of your tones," she said. "If you both can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting either of you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in these two's case."

Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry and I might forget our bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry and I caught ourselves thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry and I to stay out of their way, which we were both only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry and I under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for our improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley and me to herself, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at the two of us, as though daring us to ask why we hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry and I such unsatisfactory people.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way those two have turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the _inside_, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Harry and I tried to concentrate on our food, but our hands shook and our faces were starting to burn with rage. _Remember the form, _we told ourselves, glancing at each other. _Think about Hogsmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise -_

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with one of the bitches, there'll be something wrong with the pups -"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" Aunt Petunia squealed. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," Aunt Marge grunted, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip. . ."

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looked at Harry and I suspiciously, so we decided we'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as we could.

Outside in the hall, we leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since we'd lost control and made something explode. We couldn't afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn't the only thing at stake - if we carried on like that, we'd both be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.

Harry and I were still underage wizards, and we were forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. Our records weren't exactly clean either. Only last summer we'd gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry and I would face expulsion from Hogwarts.

We heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way.

Harry and I got through the next three days by forcing ourselves to think about his _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare _whenever Aunt Marge started on us. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give us a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that we were mentally subnormal.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. We got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of either my or Harry's faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored us all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that. . . and a bit more. . .that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry and I really wanted to disappear into our bedroom, but we met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew we would have to sit it out.

"Aah," Aunt Marge said, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after. . . ." She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon. . . ."

"Now, these two here -"

She jerked her head at Harry and I, and we felt our stomachs clench. _The Handbook_, we thought quickly, glancing at each other.

"These two've got a mean, runty look about them. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

I sipped my milk, trying to hide the grimace on my face.

"It all comes down to blook, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" - she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one - "but your sister and adopted sister were bad eggs. They turn up in the best families. Then they ran off with a couple of wastrel and here's the results right in front of us."

I stared into space, unable to remember any of what I'd read. I grasped my glass tightly, my knuckles white, but nothing could sooth me. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into me like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.

"This Potter and - hic - Power," Aunt Marge said loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what they did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"They - didn't work," Uncle Vernon said, with half a glance at Harry and I. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" Aunt Marge said, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A couple of no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scroungers who -"

"STOP IT!" I screamed suddenly, slamming my hands on the table and shooting to my feet, tears in my eyes. "They were not," Harry growled. The table went very quiet. Harry and I were both shaking all over. Neither of us had ever felt so angry in our entire lives.

"MORE BRANDY!" Uncle Vernon yelled, looking really white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You two," he snarled to Harry and I. "Go to bed, go on -"

"No, Vernon," Aunt Marge hisccuped again, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on the two of us. "Go on, you two, go on. Proud of all your parents, are you? They all go and get themselves kiled in a car crash (drunk, I expect) -"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" Harry said, leaping to his feet, too.

"They all died in a car crash, you nasty little liars, and left you two to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" Aunt Marge screamed, swelling with fury. "You are both insolent, ungrateful little -"

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger - but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech - next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls - she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami -

"MARGE!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia yelled together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.

Harry and I tore from the dining room before anyone could stop us, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as we reached it. In seconds, we had heaved each of our trunks to the front door. We sprinted upstairs and he threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcases full of our books and his birthday presents. He wriggled out and we seized Hedwig and Elon's empty cages, and dashed back downstairs to our trunks, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

But a reckless rage had come over both of us. Harry kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon, pushing me behind him.

"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from us. Cheyenne, open the door."

I quickly unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

"We're going," Harry said. "We've had enough."

And in the next moment, we were out in the dark, quiet street, heaving our heavy trunks behind us, Hedwig and Elon's cages under our arms.


	3. The Knight Bus

**Chapter Three**

**The Knight Bus**

Both Harry and I were several streets away before we collapsed onto a low wall on Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging our trunks. We sat quite still, anger still surging through the two of us. Tears continued trailing down my cheeks and I buried my face in my hands, sobbing softly. It was a few minutes before I felt Harry wrap a soothing arm around me and I buried my face in his shoulder. His other hand rubbed my back and he whispered softly.

After ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook us: panic. Whichever way we looked at it, we had never been in a worse fix. We were stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, we had just done serious magic, which meant that we were almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. We had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, we were surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on us where we sat.

Harry and I shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen to us? Would we be arrested, or would we simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? We thought of Ron and Hermione, and our hearts sank even lower. We were both sure that, criminals or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help us now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig and Elon gone, neither of us had any means of contacting them.

We didn't have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the money bags at the bottom of each of our trunks, but the rest of the fortune our parents had left us was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. We'd never be able to drag our trunks all the way to London. Unless. . .

We looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. If we were already expelled (our hearts thumped painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn't hurt. We had the Invisibility Cloaks we had inherited from our fathers - what if we bewitched our trunks to make them feather-light, tied them to our broomsticks, covered ourselves in the cloaks, and flew to London? Then we could get the rest of our money out of our vault and. . . begin our lives as outcasts. It was a horrible prospect, but we couldn't sit on this wall forever, or we'd find ourselves trying to explain to Muggle police why we were out in the dead of night with a couple of trunkfuls of spellbooks and broomsticks.

Harry and I opened our trunks and pushed the contents side, looking for our Invisibility Cloaks - but before we had found them, we straightened up suddenly, looking around us once more.

A funny prickling on the back of our necks had made Harry and I feel we were being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

I grabbed my wand quickly and stood straight again as Harry bent over his trunk once more, only to stand up again, his hand clenching his wand. We had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind us. Harry and I squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then we'd know whether it was just a stray cat or - something else.

_"Lumos," _Harry muttered, putting his free arm out in front of me and wrapping his hand around my waist, scooting me behind him as a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling us. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry and I saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

We both stepped backward. Our legs hit his trunk and got tangled, tripping us. Our wands flew out of our hands as we flung out an arm to break our fall, and we landed, on top of each other, in the gutter -

There was a deafening BANG, and we threw up our hands to shield our eyes against a sudeen blinding light -

With a couple of yells, we rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where we'd both just been lying. They belonged, as Harry and I saw when we raised our heads, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled _The Knight Bus._

For a split second, Harry and I wondered if we had been knocked silly by our fall. Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve -"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry and I, both of us still sitting on the ground. We snatched up our wands again and scrambled to our feet. Close up, we saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than we were, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

"What were you two doin' down there?" Stan asked, dropping his professional manner.

"Fell over," Harry replied.

" 'Choo fall over for?" Stan sniggered. "Did the young lady trip ya?" He asked, glancing at me, making my face burn in embarrassement as I knew how it must have looked to him.

"It didn't happen on purpose," Harry said, annoyed, stepping between Stan and I to block his view. The knee of my jeans was torn, and the hand I'd thrown out to break my fall was bleeding. We suddenly remembered why we had fallen over and we whirled around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

" 'Choo lookin' at?" Stan asked.

"There was a big black thing," Harry said, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog. . .but massive. . ."

We looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry and I saw Stan's eyes move to the scars on each of our foreheads.

"Woss that on your 'eads?" Stan asked abruptly.

"Nothing," Harry and I said quickly, flatting our hair over our scars. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for us, we didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss your names?" Stan persisted.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry said quickly. "Hermione Granger!" I blurted out, unable to think of another name. "So - so this bus," we went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes _anywhere_?"

"Yep," Stan said proudly, "anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, "you _did_ flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?"

"Yes," I said quickly. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?"

"Eleven Sickles," Stan said, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Harry and I rummaged once more in our trunks, extracted our money bags, and shoved some gold into Stan's hands. Stan and Harry then lifted his trunk, then mine up the steps of the bus. I followed with Elon and Hedwig's cages.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep.

"You both 'ave these two," Stan whispered, shoving my and Harry's trunks under the beds right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom and 'Ermione Granger, Ern."

Ernie Prang, an eldery wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry and I, and we both nervously flattened our bangs again as we sat down on our beds.

"Take 'er away, Ern," Stan said, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's.

There was another tremendour BANG, and the next moment I found myself flat on my bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling myself up, I grabbed Harry's bed and clambered onto it, startled, and we stared out of the dark window and saw that we were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching my and Harry's stunned faces with great enjoyment.

"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," Ernie said.

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" Harry and I asked.

"Them!" Stan said comtemptuously. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," Ern said. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

Stan passed Harry's bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry and I were still looking out the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of it's way as it approached and back into position once it had passed. I hugged Harry, shaking and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.

" 'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," Stan said happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and we were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way.

Neither Harry nor I would've been able to sleep even if we had been traveling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. My stomach churned as we fell back to wondering what was going to happen to us, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry and I from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Harry and I said, both of us forgetting our troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news!"

Stan turned to the front page and chuckled.

"Sirius Black," he said, nodding. " 'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville, 'Ermione, where you been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank looks on my and Harry's faces, removed the front page, and handed it to us.

"You two oughta read the papers more."

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

**BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still elding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it - who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry and I looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Neither of us had ever met a vampire, but we had seen pictures of them in our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked like one.

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" Stan said, having watched Harry read.

"He murdered _thirteen people_?" I asked as Harry handed the page back to Stan, "with _one curse_? How is that possible? Only a really powerful wizard would be able to do that..."

"Yep," Stan said, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," Ern said darkly.

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry and I.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.

"What, Voldemort?" Harry and I said, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

"You outta your trees?" Stan yelled. " 'Choo say 'his name for?"

"Sorry," We said hastily. "Sorry, we - we forgot -"

"Forgot!" Stan said weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast. . ."

"So - so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harry and I prompted apologetically.

"Yeah," Stan said, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter and Cheyenne Power got the better of You-Know-'Oo -"

Harry and I nervously flattened our bangs down again.

" - all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-commant once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" Harry and I asked.

_"Laughed,"_ Stan said. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Ern said in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you. . .after what he did. . . ."

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. " 'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," Ernie grunted.

"An' now 'e's out," Stan said, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chance against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ernie suddenly shivered.

"Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight bus, looking worse than ever. I could relate. Neither of us could help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights' time.

" 'Ear about that 'Arry Potter and Cheyenne Power? Blew up their aunt! We 'ad 'em 'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? They was tryin' to run for it. . . ."

We, Harry and Cheyenne, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land us in Azkaban? Neither Harry nor I knew anything abut the wizard prison, though everyone we'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Neither Harry nor I would soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people either Harry or I knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry and I lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed, my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around my waist. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry and I had paid for hot chocolate, but poured both cups all over Harry's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Harry and I were the only passengers left.

"Right then, Neville, Hermione," Stan said, clapping his hands, "where abouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," Harry replied.

"Righto," Stan said. " 'Old tight, then. . ."

BANG.

We were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry and I sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. We would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off - where, we didn't know.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Thanks," Harry and I said to Ern.

We jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower, first Harry's trunk, then mine onto the pavement. Then he handed Elon and Hedwig's cages to us.

"Well," Harry said. "'Bye then!"

But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

"_There_ you are, Harry, Cheyenne," a voice said.

Before either Harry or I could turn, we each felt a hand on our shoulders. At the same time, Stan shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come _'ere_!"

Harry and I looked up at the owner of the hands on our shoulders and we both felt a bucketful of ice cascade into our stomachs - we had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside us.

"What didja call Neville and 'Ermione, Minister?" he asked excitedly.

Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.

"Neville? 'Ermione?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power."

"I knew it!" Stan shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville and 'Ermione are, Ern! They're 'Arry Potter and Cheyenne Power! I can see their scars!"

"Yes," Fudge said testily, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry and Cheyenne up, but they and I need to step inside the Leady Cauldron now. . ."

Fudge increased the pressure on both our shoulders, and Harry and I found ourselves being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

"You've got them, Minister!" Tom said. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," Fudge said, still not releasing his hold on either Harry or myself.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind us, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly.

" 'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Neville, 'Ermione?" Stan asked, beaming at Harry and I while Ernie's owlish face peerked interestedly over Stan's shoulder.

"And a _private_ parlor, please, Tom," Fudge said pointedly.

" 'Bye," Harry and I said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar.

" 'Bye Neville, 'Erimone." Stan called.

Fudge marched Harry and I along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room.

"Sit down, Harry, Cheyenne," Fudge said, indicating a couple of chairs by the fire.

Harry and I sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up our arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite us.

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry, Cheyenne. The Minister of Magic."

Harry and I already knew this, of course; we had seen Fudge once before, but as we had been wearing our fathers' Invisibility Cloaks at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that.

Tom the innkeeper reppeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and I and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.

"Well, Harry, Cheyenne," Fudge said, pouring out tea, "you've both had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think. . .but you're both safe, and that's what matters.

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward the two of us.

"Eat, Harry, Cheyenne, you both look dead on your feet. Now then. . . you will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Harry and I over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite niece and nephew. Harry and I, both of whom couldn't believe our ears, opened our mouths to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say, and closed them again.

"Ah, you're both worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" Fudge said. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, Cheyenne, but they are prepared to take you both back next summer as long as you two stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.

Harry and I unstuck our throats.

"We _always_ stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," we said, "and we don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll both feel differently once you've calmed down," Fudge said in a worried tone. "They are you family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other - er - _very _deep down."

It didn't occur to either of us to put Fudge right. We were still waiting to hear wht was going to happen to us now.

"So all that remains," Fudge said, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you two're going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and -"

"Hang on," Harry blurted out. "What about our punishment?"

Fudge blinked.

"Punishment?"

"We broke the law!" I said. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Oh, my dear girl, we're not going to punish you two for a little think like that!" Fudge cried, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

But this didn't tally at all with my or Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.

"Last year, we got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in our uncle's house!" we told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said we'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

Unless both our eyes were deceiving us, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.

"Circumstances change, Harry. . .Cheyenne. . .We have to take into account. . .in the present climate. . .Surely neither of you _want_ to be expelled?"

"Of course we don't," Harry and I said.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" Fudge laughed. "Now, have a crumpet, you two, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you."

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry and I stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for us at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish us for what we'd done? And now that we came to think of it, surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic _himself_ to get involved in matters of underage magic?

Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.

"Room eleven's free, Harry, Cheyenne," Fudge said. "I think you'll both be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll both understand. . . I don't want either of you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're both to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you two for me."

"Okay," Harry and I said slowly, "but why -?"

"Don't want to lose you two again, do we?" Fudge said with a hearty laugh. "No, no. . .best we know where you both are. . . .I mean. . ."

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak.

"Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know. . . ."

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" Harry and I asked.

Fudge's finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

"What's that? Oh, you've heard - well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed. . .and they are angrier than I've ever seen them."

Fudge shuddered slightly.

"So, I'll say good-bye."

He held out his hand and Harry and I, shaking it one at a time, had a sudden idea.

"Er - Minister? Can we ask you something?"

"Certainly," Fudge said with a smile.

"Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but our aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission forms. D'you think you could -?"

Fudge was looking uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, Cheyenne, but as I'm not either of your parents or guardians -"

"But you're the Minister of Magic," Harry said eagerly. "If you give us permission -"

"No, I'm sorry, Harry, Cheyenne, but rules are rules," Fudge said flatly. "Perhaps you'll both be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't. . .yes. . .well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry, Cheyenne."

And with a last smile and shake of our hands, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry and I.

"If you'll both follow me, Mr. Potter, Miss Power," he said, "I've already taken both your things up. . . ."

Harry and I followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for us.

Inside was a couple of very comfortable-looking beds, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe -

"Hedwig! Elon!" Harry and I gasped.

The snowy and raven black owls clicked their beaks and fluttered down onto our arms.

"Very smart owls you've got there," Tom chuckled. "Arrived about five minutes after you two did. If there's anything either of you need, Mr. Potter, Miss Power, don't hesitate to ask."

He gave another bow and left.

Harry and I sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig and Elon. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry and I could hardly believe that we'd left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that we weren't expelled, and that we were now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks.

"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," Harry yawned. Elon hooted softly and nuzzled my cheek softly.

And without even removing our glasses, we slumped back onto the pillows and fell asleep.


	4. The Leaky Cauldron

**Chapter Four**

**The Leaky Cauldron**

It took Harry and I both several days to get used to our strange new freedom. Never before had we been able to get up whenever we wanted or eat whatever we fancied. We could even go wherever we pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, neither Harry nor I felt the desire to break our word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world.

Harry and I ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where we liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in _Transfiguration Today_; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woollen balaclava.

After breakfast Harry and I would go out into the backyard, he'd take out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and we'd stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

Harry and I both spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where our fellow diners were showing one another their purchases ("it's a lunascope, old boy - no more messing around with moon charts, see?") or else discussing the case of Sirius Black ("personally, I won't let any of the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban"). Neither Harry nor I had to do our homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now we could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all our essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry and I free sundaes every half an hour.

Once Harry and I had refilled our money bags with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from our vault at Gringotts, we had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. We had to keep reminding ourselves that we had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop ourselves from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player's face when they lose a point). We were sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant we never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested both my and Harry's resolutions most appeared in our favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after we'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry and I edged our way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until we glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom we had ever seen in our lives.

"Just come out - prototype -" a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" a boy younger than Harry squeaked, swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

A large witch in front of Harry and I moved, and we were able to read the sign next to the broom:

**THE FIREBOLT**

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE **FIREBOLT** UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE **FIREBOLT** HAS AN ACCELERATION OF **150** MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST.

Price on request. . .Harry and I didn't like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. We had never wanted anything as much in our whole lives - but we had never lost a Quidditch match on our Nimbus Two Thousands, and what was the point in emptying our Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when we had very good brooms already? Neither Harry nor I asked for the price, but we returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

There were, however, things that Harry and I needed to buy. We went to the Apothecary to replenish our store of potions ingredients, and as Harry's school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, we visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones. Most important of all, we had to buy our new schoolbooks, which would include those for our two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. I would need to see if I needed to get new books for Music and Art too.

Harry and I got a surprise as we looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with eaach other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

Harry and I pulled our booklists out of our pockets and consulted them for the first time. _The Monster Book of Monsters_ was listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures. Now Harry and I understood why Hagrid had said it would come in useful. We felt relieved; we had been wondering whether Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet.

As Harry and I entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward us.

"Hogwarts?" he asked abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes," Harry and I said. "We need -"

"Get out of the way," the manager said impatiently, brushing the two of us aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the _Monster Books' _cage.

"Hang on," Harry said quickly, "We've both already got one of those."

"Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. "Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning -"

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the _Monster Books_ had seized a third and were pulling it apart.

"Stop it! Stop it!" the manager cried, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_ - cost a fortune, and we never found them. . . .Well. . .is there anything else I can help you both with?"

"Yes," Harry said, looking down at our booklists, "We need _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablastsky."

"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" the manager asked, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry and I into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling. A small table was stacked with volumes such as _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks _and _Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul_.

"Here you are," the manager said, climbing a set of steps to take down a couple of thick, black-bound books. _"Unfogging the Future._ Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods - palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails -"

But neither Harry nor I were listening. Our eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: _Death Omens: What to Do when You Know the Worst Is Coming._

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were one of you," the manager said lightly, looking to see what Harry and I were staring at. "You'll both start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Harry and I continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar. . . .

The manager pressed _Unfogging the Future_ into my and Harry's hands.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry and I said, tearing our eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting our booklist. "Er - we need _Intermediate Transfiguration _and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three."_

Harry and I emerged from Florish and Blotts ten minutes later with our new books under our arms and made our way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where we were going and bumping into several people each.

We tramped up the stairs to our room, went inside, and tipped our books onto our beds. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. Harry and I could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind us and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. I plopped down on my bed with a sigh as Harry caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin.

"It can't have been a death omen," I heard him tell his reflection defiantly. "We were panicking when we saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent. . . .It was probably just a stray dog. . . .Right, Chey?" He looked at me questionally. I nodded, "Yeah, it was probably just a dog. . .it was quite the stressful ngith, espiecally with what happened with the Dursleys." I said, shaking my head.

He turned back to look in the mirror and raised his hand automatically to try and make his hair lie flat.

"You're fighting a losing battle there, dear," our mirror said in a wheezy voice.

As the days slipped by, Harry and I started looking wherever we went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Harry and I met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, our fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt; we also ran into the real Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts. Neither of us stopped to chat; Nev ille appeared to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother. Both Harry and I hoped she never found out that he'd pretended to be Neville while we were on the run from the Ministry of Magic.

Harry and I woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that we would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. We got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, nd was just wondering where we'd have lunch, when someone yelled our names and we turned.

"Harry! CHEYENNE!"

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor - Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at us.

"Finally!" Ron said, grinning at the two of us as we sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd both left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and -"

"We got all our school stuff last week," Harry and I explained. "And how come you knew we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," Ron said simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

"Did you two _really_ blow up your aunt, Harry, Cheyenne?" Hermione asked in a very serious voice.

"We didn't mean to," Harry and I said, while Ron roared with laughter. "We just -" We glanced at each other uneasily, "lost control."

"It's not funny, Ron," Hermione said sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed neither Harry nor Cheyenne were expelled."

"So are we," Harry admitted. "Forget expelled, Chey and I thought we were going to be arrested." We looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let us off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you two, isn't it?" Ron shrugged, still chuckling. "Famous Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to _me _if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourselves this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you two can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"Excellent!" I said happily, beaming too. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," Ron said, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books -" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those _Monster Books, _eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" Hermione said. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies -"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes at Harry and I. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," Hermione said earnestly.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" Harry asked while Ron sniggered. I frowned.

"Aw, leave her alone guys, it's Hermione's choice if she wants to study all these subjects. She's curious." I said. Hermione smiled thankfully at me and the boys dropped the subject.

"I've still got ten Galleons," Hermione said, checking her purse. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice _book_?" Ron said innocently.

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig, Chey's got Elon and you've got Errol -"

"I haven't," Ron interrupted quickly. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of us. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

Scabbers _was_ looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," Harry and I said, both of us knowing Diagon Alley very well by now. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl."

So they paid for their ice cream and we crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie.

There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Ron, Hermione and I waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that weree playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter.

"It's my rat," he told the witch. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

"Bang him on the counter," the witch said, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better look.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

"Hm," the witch said, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "Quite old. He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" the witch asked, examining Scabbers closely.

"Er -" The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch's eyes moved from Scabber's tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said.

"He was like that when Percy gave him to me," Ron said defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," the witch said. "Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these -"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, "Show-offs."

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," the witch said, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," Ron said. "How much - OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" the witch cried, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed, leaving Hermione and I in the shop with the witch and the creature.

It turned out to be a cat. It was an enormous ginger feline with thick, fluffy fur. He was a bit bowlegged and his face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though he had run headlong into a brick wall. The witch had grabbed a hold of the feline and was scolding him.

"Bad Crookshanks, bad." She sighed, turning to Hermione and I. "I'm sorry about your friend and his rat. Crookshanks was trying to get attention. He'd been here for ages and no one's shown any interest in him whatsoever." She picked the cat up and turned to put him in a cage.

"Wait!" Hermione said quickly, stepping forward, "I'll take Crookshanks. He looks like he'll need a good home." She said, reaching into her purse, asking how much the cat was. The woman, looking taken aback, told us the price and Hermione paid for the cat. I pulled out my bag and paid for Scabber's rat tonic and we left. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, Crookshanks was purring contentedly in Hermione's arms.

"He's cute when he's not spitting and all bristled up," I said, reaching over and scratching the cat between the ears. He purred, leaning into my hand.

We were stepping out of Magical Menagerie when we met Harry and Ron coming back. Both immediately looked at the ginger cat clamped tightly in Hermione's arms.

"You _bought_ that monster?" Ron asked, his mouth hanging open.

"He's _gorgeous,_ isn't he?" Hermione said, glowing.

I knew Harry thought that was a matter of opinion. He was looking the cat over, taking in his features curiously.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" Ron said.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" Hermione said, petting him. I scratched under his chin, making him purr loudly.

"Aww, just give him a chance, Ron, he's not that bad." I said softly, smiling.

"And what about Scabbers?" Ron hissed, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds us, you forgot your rat tonic," I said, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand. "And stop _worrying_, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."

"I wonder why," Ron said sarcastically as we set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

We found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet._

"Harry! Cheyenne!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are you two?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry and I said as we, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with all our shopping.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry and I saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at us.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" we asked.

"No," Mr. Weasley said, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" Ron asked. "It'd be good to get some more money -"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Mr. Weasley said, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he and I had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered "hello" without looking at him or me. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as thought he had never met either Harry or I and said, "Harry, Cheyenne. How nice to see you."

"Hello, Percy," Harry and I said, both of us trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're both well?" Percy said pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks -"

"Harry, Cheyenne!" Fred said, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply _splendid_ to see you both -"

"Marvelous," George said, pushing Fred aside and seizing my and Harry's hands in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Mum!" Fred said as though he'd only just spotted her and seized her hand too. "How really corking to see you -" Harry and I laughed together, putting each other's hands over the other's mouth to stiffle it.

"I said, that's enough," Mrs. Weasley said, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Harry and Cheyenne, dears. I suppose you've both heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made either of you prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" George asked, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny and I giggled together.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," Percy said loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner. . . ."

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Harry and I. "But Mum spotted us."

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and I ate our way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" Fred asked as we dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," Mr. Weasley said.

We all looked up at him.

"Why?" Percy asked curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," George said seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hood with HB on them -"

" - for Humongous Bighead," Fred said.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," Mr. Weasley said, " - and as I work there, they're doing me a favor -"

His voice was casual, but Harry and I couldn't help noticing that Mr. Weasley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure.

"Good thing, too," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground. . . .You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," Percy said, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one we made our way upstairs to our rooms to check our things for the next day. Ron and Percy were next door to Harry and I. We had just closed and locked our own trunks when we heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting.

"It was _here_, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing -"

"I haven't touched it, all right?" Ron roared back.

"What's up?" Harry asked, pushing the door open some and we stepped inside.

"My Head Boy badge is gone," Percy said, rounding on the two of us. I jumped back in surprise.

"So's Scabbers's rat tonic," Ron said, throwing things out of his trunk to look. "I think I might've left it in the bar -"

"You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!" Percy yelled.

"We'll get Scabbers's stuff, we're packed," Harry said to Ron, and we went downstairs.

Harry and I were halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when we heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, we recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys'. We hesitated, not wanting them to know we'd heard them arguing, when the sound of our own names made us stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

". . .makes no sense not to tell them," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry and Cheyenne've got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating the two of them like children. They're thirteen years old and -"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify them!" Mrs. Weasley said shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry and Cheyenne back to school with that hanging over them? For heaven's sake, they're _happy_ not knowing!"

"I don't want to make them miserable, I want to put them on their guard!" Mr. Weasley retorted. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves, dragging Cheyenne with them - they've even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! But neither Harry nor Cheyenne must do that this year! When I think what could have happened to them that night they ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked them up, I'm prepared to bet they would have been dead before the Ministry found them."

"But they're _not_ dead, they're fine, so what's the point -"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been a month, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet,_ we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after -"

"But Harry and Cheyenne will both be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry or Cheyenne -"

There was a thud on wood, and Harry and I were sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts. . .he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants both Harry and Cheyenne dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering the two of them will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry and Cheyenne stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaband to brood on that. . . ."

There was a silence. Harry and I leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more. My foot slid out from under me and I squeaked quietly. Harry wrapped his arms around my waist and helped keep me upright as we listened quietly.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry and Cheyenne at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," Mr. Weasley said heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that. . .but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry and Cheyenne -"

" - then I will never say another word against them," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up. . . ."

Harry and I heard chairs move. As quietly as we could, we hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told us that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs.

The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table we had sat at earlier. Harry and I waited until we heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in search of his badge.

"We've got it," Fred whispered to Harry and I. "We've been improving it."

The badge now read _Bighead Boy._

Harry and I each forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut ourselves in our room and lay down on his bed. Whenever we learned something disturbing or scary, I didn't feel comfortable sleeping by myself in my own bed and would curl up next to him on his bed. Harry didn't seem to mind.

So Sirius Black was after us. This explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with us because he was so relieved to find us alive. He'd made Harry and I promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on us. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take us all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry and I until we were on the train.

Harry and I lay listening to the muffled shouting next door nd wondered why we didn't feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought Harry and I would be panic-striken if we knew the truth. But Harry and I happened to agree wholehearedly with Mrs. Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

And then there were all these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black's chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry and I most was the fact that our chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want either Harry or I to leave the safety of the castle until Black was caught; in fact, Harry and I suspected our every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed.

We scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think we couldn't look after ourselves? We'd escaped Lord Voldemort three times; we weren't completely useless. . . .

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed our minds. _What to do when you know the worst is coming. . . ._

"We're _not _going to be murdered," Harry and I said out loud.

"That's the spirit, dears," our mirror said sleepily.


	5. The Dementor

**Chapter Five**

**The Dementor**

Tom woke Harry and I the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea each. We both got dressed and were just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his _girlfriend_. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy. . . ."

"We've got something to tell you," Harry began as I g0t Elon into his cage without too much hastle, but we were interrupted by Fred and George, who looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

We headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as we sat down.

"Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

Neither Harry nor I had a chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; we were too busy heaving all our trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig, Elon and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," Ron snapped. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.

Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here," he said. "Harry, Cheyenne, come on."

Mr. Weasley marched Harry and I across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you both get, Harry, Cheyenne," Mr. Weasley said, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Harry and I got into the back of the car and were shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with my and Harry's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry and I noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. We reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found us trolleys, unloaded our trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to both Harry and myself all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around us. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry. Molly, why don't you come with Cheyenne, then?" Mrs. Weasley nodded and moved to stand with me.

We watched Mr. Weasley stroll toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. We saw him glance meaningfully at Harry before he leaned casually against the barrier with Harry imitating him.  
As they fell sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters, I heard Mrs. Weasley mutter something under her breath, a loving glint in her eyes. She turned, indicating to Percy and Ginny to go next. The two turned their trolleys toward the barrier and sprinted off, disappearing without a trace onto the platform.

"Fred, dear, why don't you and Cheyenne gone on next?" Mrs. Weasley said, indicating her son forward as I pushed my trolley to face the barrier.

Fred grinned boldly and pushed his trolley forward so that his trolley was level with mine, "Come on, Chey, let's go!" He said energetically, taking my hand. I blushed lightly and nodded. We both leaned over the bars of our trolleys and broke into a sprint together toward the barrier. We disappeared through the barrier and skid to a stop on platform nine and three-quarters, looking up to see the Hogwarts Express, scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train. We had arrived just in time to see Percy striding toward a girl with long, curly hair, his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge. Fred smirked and I giggled.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined us, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. We loaded the trunks onto it, stowing Hedwig, Elon and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry and I. We were both embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave us each an extra hug.

"Do take care, won't you, Harry, Cheyenne?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches...Here you are, Ron...no, they're not corned beef...Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are, dear..."

"Harry, Cheyenne," Mr. Weasley said quietly, "come over here a moment."

He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry and I followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.

"There's something I've got to tell you both before you leave -" Mr. Weasley said, in a tense voice.

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," Harry and I said. "We already know."

"You both know? How could you know?"

"We - er - we heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. We couldn't help hearing," Harry added quickly. "Sorry -"

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you two to find out," Mr. Weasley said, looking anxious.

"No - honestly, it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and we know what's going on."

"Harry, Cheyenne, you both must be very scared -"

"We're not," Harry and I both said sincerely. _"Really,"_ we added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "We're not trying to be heros, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name but overlooked it.

"Harry, Cheyenne, I knew you both were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that neither of you're scared, but -"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley called, now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"They're coming, Molly!" Mr. Weasley said, but he turned back to Harry and I, and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you both to give me your word -"

" - that we'll be a good boy and girl, and stay in the castle?" Harry and I said gloomily.

"Not entirely," Mr. Weasley said, looking more serious than either Harry or I had ever seen him. "Harry, Cheyenne, swear to met neither of you will go _looking_ for Black."

Harry and I stared. "What?"

"Promise me, Harry, Cheyenne," Mr. Weasley said, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens -"

"Why would we go looking for someone we know wants to kill us?" I asked blankly.

"Swear to me, that whatever either of you might hear -"

"Arthur, quickly!" Mrs. Weasley cried.

Steam waas billowing from the train; it had started to move. Harry bolted off and I said quickly goodbye to Mr. Weasley before bolting after him. Ron had thrown the compartment door open and stepped back to let him in. Fred stepped in the doorway as Harry moved past and held out a hand, which I took gratefully and he helped me onto the train. We leaned out the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"We need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

"Go away, Ginny," Ron said.

"Oh, that's nice," Ginny said huffily, and she stalked off.

"Sorry Fred, um, but this is a private conversation...but, we can hang out later..." I said, smiling apologetically. He smiled lightly back and said he was looking for it before he kissed my forehead and walked off down the corridor.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I set off down the opposite corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and we had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as we sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione and I whispered at once.

"How d'you both know that?"

"It's on his case," we replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"Wonder what he teaches?" Ron said, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," Hermione whispered. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," Ron said doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." He turned to Harry and I. "What were you two going to tell us?"

Harry and I explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given us. When we finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after _you two?_ Oh, Harry, Chey. . .you'll both have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble -"

"We don't go looking for trouble," Harry and I said, nettled. "Trouble usually finds _us_."

"How thick would Harry and Chey have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill them?" Ron asked shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry and I had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than we were.  
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," Ron said uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione asked earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too..."

"What's that noise?" Ron asked suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. We looked all around the compartment.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," Ron said, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a _Sneakoscope_?" Hermione asked interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah...mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" Hermione said shrewdly.

"No! Well...I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys...but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," Ron said, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain -"

"Yeah, I think it is," Ron said in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"The sweetshop," I said, remembering what I'd read, gazing silently into space at the thought of the shop, "they have _everything_..."

"Pepper Imps - they make you smoke at the mouth - and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're think what to write next -" Ron broke off, a really dreamy look on his face.

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunt building in Britain -"

" - and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," Ron said, obviously not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry and I.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

" 'Spect it will," Harry and I said heavily. "You'll have to tell us when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked.

"We can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign our permission forms, and Fudge wouldn't either."

Ron looked horrified.

_"Neither of you are allowed to come?_ But - no way - McGonagall or someone will give you both permission -"

Harry and I each gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict.

" - or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle -"

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply. "I don't think Harry or Chey should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose -"

"Yeah, we expect that's what McGonagall will say when we ask for permission," Harry and I said bitterly.

"But if _we're_ with them," Ron said spiritedly to Hermione, "Black wouldn't dare -"

"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," Hermione snapped. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry and Chey just because _we're_ there?"

She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away.

"Get out of here!"

"Ron, don't!" Hermione said angrily.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. We watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of our compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.

At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously.

"Er - Professor?" she said. "Excuse me - Professor?"

He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," the witch said as she handed Harry and I each a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he _is_ asleep?" Ron said quietly as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean - he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, he's breathing," I whispered quickly, handing Hermione one of the Cauldron Cakes.

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in our compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, we heard footsteps in the corridor again, and our three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy, Harry and I had been enemies ever since we had met on our very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and musclely; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-ish arms.

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy said in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Powter and the Weasel."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," Malfoy said. "Did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.

"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," Harry and I said, both of us getting to our feet too, in case we needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry, Ron and I sat down again, Ron messaging his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and -"

Ron made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," Hermione hissed, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be _careful_..."

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

"We must be nearly there," Ron said, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," Ron said, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," Hermione said, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Both Harry and I, the ones closest to the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told us that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and we were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" Ron's voice said from behind Harry and myself.

"Ouch!" Hermione gasped. "Ron, that was my foot!"

I felt Harry take my hand and we felt our way back to our seats.

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry and I saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard..."

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over my legs.

"Sorry - d'you know what's going on? - Ouch - sorry -"

"Hullo, Neville," Harry and I said, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak together.

"Harry? Cheyenne? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea - sit down -"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," We heard Hermione say. Harry and I felt her pass us, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that_?"

"Gin, what happened?" A third voice called.

"Ginny? Fred?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you two doing?"

"We were looking for Ron/ Chey -"

"Come in and sit down -"

"Not here!" Harry and I said hurriedly. "_We're_ here!" "Chey?" "Fred? Oh, hold on." I let go of Harry's hand and stood, bumping immediately into the figure in front of me, a tall figure I recognized as Fred. I felt him gently grab my shoulders and we slowly rotated until he stood in front of the seat. He sat down, his arms going around my waist and he pulled me into his lap. I could feel my face burn, but I smiled nonetheless.

"Ouch!" Neville said.

"Quiet!" a hoarse voice said suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. I could hear movements in his corner. None of us spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. My eyes darted downward, and what I saw made my heart drop. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water...

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed my gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of it's black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over us all. I felt my own breath catch in my chest. The cold went deeper than my skin. It was inside my chest, it was inside my very heart...

My eyes rolled up into my head. I couldn't see. I was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in my ears as though of water. I was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder...

And then, from far away, I heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. I wanted to help whoever it was, I tried to move my arms, but couldn't...a thick white fog was swirling around me, inside me -

"Harry! Cheyenne! Are you both all right?"

Someone was gently patting my cheek, someone else shaking my shoulder.

"Wh - what?"

My eyes fluttered open; there were lanterns above me and I could feel light tremors - the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. I seemed to have passed out in Fred's arms. He was gazing down at me with relieved eyes and Ginny was peering at me from next to him. He gently brushed the bangs from my eyes and I smiled, seeing something out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head; Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to Harry, who was laying on the floor. Professor Lupin and Neville were watching us. "Harry..." I said softly, reaching a hand toward him. I felt extremely sick; when I reached my other hand up to touch my glasses, I felt cold sweat on my face.

Ron and Hermione heaved Harry back onto his seat.

"Are you both okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," Harry and I said, both of us looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that - that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Ron said, more nervously still.

Harry and I looked around the bright compartment. Ginny, Neville, and Fred looked back at us, all three very pale.

"But we heard screaming -"

A loud snap made us all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry and I, handing us each particularly large pieces. "Eat it. It'll help."

We both took the chocolate, but only I started nibbling nervously on it.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked Lupin.

"A dementor," Lupin said, now giving chocolate to everyone else. "one of the dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..."

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're both okay, Harry, Chey?" Hermione asked, watching the two of us anxiously.

Harry and I glanced at each other. "I don't get it...What happened?" Harry and I said, wiping more sweat off our faces.

"Well - that thing - the dementor - stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) - and you two - you -"

"I though you both were having fits or something," Ron said, still looking scared. "You both went sort of rigid and Harry, you fell out of your seat and then both of you started twitching -"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," Hermione said, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away..."

"It was horrible," Neville said, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," Ron said, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking neraly as bad as both Harry and I felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her. I could feel Fred shaking and I leaned gently against his chest, hugging him.

"But didn't any of you - fall off your seats?" Harry asked awkwardly."

No," Ron said, looking anxiously at Harry, then myself. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though...Only you two fainted. Fred kept Chey in his lap, but we weren't able to keep you from sliding onto the floor..."

Harry and I glanced at each other, neither of us able to understand. We felt weak and shivery, as though we were recovering from a bad bout of flu; we also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had we gone to pieces like that? when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looking around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned the chocolate, you know..."  
I watched Harry take a bite of his and started nibbling on mine again, feeling warmth slowly spread to the tips of my fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Professor Lupin said. "Are you both all right, Harry, Cheyenne?"

Neither of us asked how Professor Lupin knew our names.

"Fine," we muttered together, embarrassed.

We didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. Fred said he needed to check on Lee Jordan and George, but asked if I needed him to stay. I gently shooed him away, saying I'd be fine. He left reluctantly, disappearing into the crowd.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All righ', you four?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. We waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around us was shunting us away along the platform. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry and I assumed, by an invisible horse, because when we climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. I felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at Harry and I sideways, as thought frightened we might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry and I both saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to overwelm me again; I slid down in my seat, clamping my eyes shut until we had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out the tiny window, watching the many turrents and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.

As Harry stepped down and turned to help me, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in our ears.

"You _fainted_, Powter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You both actually _fainted_?"

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block my and Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron said, his jaw clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" Malfoy said loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the delapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no - er - _Professor_," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of us joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry and I followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Power! Granger! I want to see you three!"

Harry, Hermione and I turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry seized my hand and we fought our way over to her with a feeling of forboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making us feel we must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried - I just want a word in my office," she told us. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry, Hermione, and I away from the chattering crowd; we accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once we were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned the three of us to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you two were taken ill on the train, Potter, Power."

Before either of us could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in.

I felt about ready to faint again. It was bad enough that Harry and I'd passed out, or whatever we had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"We're fine," we said, "we don't need anything -"

"Oh, it's you two, is it?" Madam Pomfrey said, ignoring our protests and bending down to stare closely at me. "I suppose you've both been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a dementor, Poppy," Professor McGonagall said.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing my hair back and feeling my forehead. "They wouldn't be the last ones who collapse. Yes, she's all clammy -" she felt Harry's forehead too "- as is he. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate -"

"We're not delicate!" Harry and I said crossly.

"Of course neither of you are," Madam Pomfrey said absentmindedly, now taking my pulse.

"What do they need?" Professor McGonagall asked crisply. "Bed rest? Should they perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"We're _fine!_" Harry snapped, jumping up. I moved away from Madam Pomfrey and stood too. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if we had to go to the hospital wing was torture.

"Well, they should both have some chocolate, at the very least," Madam Pomfrey said, now trying to peer into my and Harry's eyes.

"We've already had some," I explained. "Professor Lupin gave us some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" Madam Pomfrey asked approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you both feel all right, Potter, Power?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.

_"Yes,"_ Harry and I said.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry and I went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. We had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about something, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the four of us made our way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.

It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"Oh," Hermione said softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"

New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry, Hermione and I set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at us as we passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry and I. Had the story of our collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?

We and Hermione sat down around Ron, who saved us all seats.

"What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry.

Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry and I respected him. No one could help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as we watched him beaming around at the students, we felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and I remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises - or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and I exchanged glances with Harry and Ron. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry and I, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry and I among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed to Harry and I.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts ob, but even Harry and I, both of whom hated Snape, were startled by the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger; it was loathing. Harry and I both knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on either of us.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I stared at each other, stunned. Then we joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry and I leaned forward together to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, we saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," Dumbledore said. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before us filled suddenly with food and drink. Suddenly feeling ravenous, I helped myself to everything I could reach and began to eat.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, however, were eager for it to finish so that we could talk to Hagrid. We knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been the four of us who had cleared Hagrid's name last year.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for us all to go to bed, and we got our chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as we reached the teachers' table.

"All down ter you four," Hagrid said, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up as us. "Can' believe it...great man, Dumbledore...came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough...It's what I always wanted..."

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed us away.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

"Oh no," Neville Longbottom said sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. I climbed the spiral stair with no thought in my head except how glad I was to be back. We reached our familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and I looked around, feeling like I was home at last.


	6. Talons and Tea Leaves

**Chapter Six  
Talons and Tea Leaves **

When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing we saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As we passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," Hermione said, standing right behind Harry and I. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..."

"Hey, Powter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Powter! The dementors are coming, Powter! _Woooooooo!"_

Harry and I dropped into seats oppsite each other at the Gryffindor table, next to Fred and George Weasley.

"New third-year course schedules," George said, passing them over. "What's up with you two, Harry, Chey?"

"Malfoy," Ron said, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again. Fred wrapped a gentle arm around me, rubbing my back.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Before Fred went to check in on Chey, he came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," Fred said, glancing contemptuously at Malfoy, narrowing his eyes.

"I wasn't too happy myself," George said. "They're horrible things, those dementors..."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" Fred said.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" Harry asked in a low voice. Fred reassuringly squeezed my shoulder.

"Forget it, Harry," George said bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," Fred said, grinning. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember? We're sure to beat them, right Chey?" He looked down at me from where I'd leaned my head against his shoulder. I looked up at him and grinned.

The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, I helped myself to some bacon and toast. Fred leaned down and playfully grabbed one end of a piece of bacon I was eating and broke it, chuckling. I giggled, blushing lightly.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," Ron said, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look - they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," Ron said, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And" - Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving - "_look_ - underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock_. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's _that_ good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then -"

"Pass the marmalade," Hermione said.

"But -"

"Oh, come on, Ron, just leave Hermione alone. So what if her schedule is a bit full? She already said she's fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." I said, frowning. It really shouldn't matter if Hermione wanted to take so many subjects, it is her choice after all. Ron scowled into his pumpkin juice. Hermione still looked irritated, but glad to have the subject off her.

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready...Hope it's okay...Me, a teacher...hones'ly..."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" Ron said with a note of anxiety in his voice.

The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there..."

We finished our breakfasts hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, who told us to be careful, and walked back through the hall. As we passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. I glanced back at the twins in time to see Fred pretendig to be a scared Malfoy, pretending to tremble and about ready to cry. I smirked and pointed it out to Harry, who chuckled as she stepped into the entrance hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught us everything about the castle, and we had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's - got - to - be - a - shortcut," Ron panted as we climbed our seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," Hermione said, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," Ron said. "That's south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window..."

Harry and I were watching the painting. A fat, dapple-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. We were both used to the subjects of Hogwarts painting moving around and leaving their frames to visit one another, but we always enjoyed watching it. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

We watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" Harry and I asked, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggarts! Back, you rogues!"

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," Harry said, taking adventage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish imstantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"  
And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

We hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then we spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" the knight yelled, and we saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last we heard the murmur of voices above us and knew we had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" the knight cried, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," Ron muttered as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

We climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There was no door off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and I and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

" 'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher,' " We read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to our question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at our feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," Ron said, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. I followed close behind.

We emerged into the strangest-looking classroom we had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light, the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mentalpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at my and Harry's shoulders as the class assembled around us, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

My immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and we saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and we all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I sat ourselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," Professor Trelawney said, having seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name if Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field..."

At these words, Harry, Ron and I glanced quickly at Hermione and I could feel a few stares from both boys as well. Hermione, meanwhile, looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous fae. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," Neville said tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," Professor Trelawney said, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball - if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading - it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" - she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up - "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind...thank you..."

When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had had our teacups filled, we went back to our table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. We swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over. Harry and Ron traded, while I traded with Hermione and we flipped our books open.

"All right," I held Hermione's cup close, checking the signs and then turning my eyes to the book before checking the dregs again, "Let's see here. Oh, eh, um, I see a...a cross here, that means 'trials and suffering..." I ran my finger down the sings, humming softly, trying to keep my mind clear and not let the heavily perfumed smoke in the room affect me too badly before turning the cup a little bit, trying to see other signs, "Um...that...that, uh, that looks to be it, Hermione, but, maybe it wouldn't be anything to serious, right?" I said nervously, putting her cup down and turning to her.

Hermione was frowning deeply, her eyebrows frowed and she turned to my cup curiously, checking the signs and comparing them silently to what they meant in the book. After several moments, she spoke, "Well, you have four signs: The Falcon - a deadly enemy,"

I snorted, "That's kinda obvious..." I said, knowing it meant Voldemort. _Everyone _knew about my and Harry's deadly rivalry with the Dark Lord. Hermione grinned and moved onto the next sign.

"Let's see, then there was a club, which means an attack. Considering wht's happened the last two years, it's not too surprising." She turned my cup counterclockwise and checked the other sign once more, "You cup really isn't the brightest ray of sunshine here, Chey," she teased, grinning.

"Then, there's the skull, which means danger in your path," I shrugged at that. "And finally..." She paused, frowning, if possible, even more deeply as she gave the cup a final turn. "It looks like a big, black dog, this one. Um, that is the...Grim...which means...death..." She broke off and a shiver ran down the length of my spine at the mention of a big, black dog and the hair on my arms prickled.

I heard Harry gave a snort of laughter, which brought me around to what was going on with the rest of the class. Professor Trelawney suddenly swept over and snatched Harry's cup from Ron's hand. Everyone around us went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon...my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows _that_," Hermione suddenly said, making me jump, forgetting she was there. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," Hermione said. "Everyone knows about Harry, Cheyenne and You-Know-Who."

I could see Harry and Ron staring at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration and knew they'd never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup gain and continued to turn it.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup..."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," I heard Ron say sheepishly, but I kept my eyes on our teacher, my heart racing. Harry's cup was...just like mine! That was scary.

"The skull...danger in your path, my dear..."

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy...my poor, dear boy...no...it is kinder not to say... no...don't ask me..."

"What is it, Professor?" Dean Thomas asked at once. Everyone had got to their feet and slowly their crowded around our table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" Harry asked.

I could tell that he was the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everyone else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" Professor Trelawney cried, looking shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen - the worst omen - of _death_!"

I felt my heart drop like a stone. Our cups were actually the same! But...sure Harry and I were friends and we'd done practically everything together since we were babies, but something like _this?_ The image of the dog on the cover of _Death Omens_ in Flourish and Blotts seemed to have been burned into the inside my eyelids, as was the image of the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent...Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

_"I_ don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with, from what I could tell, mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

I suddenly felt someone reach past me and pick up my tea cup, but before I could stop them, I heard a gasp, "Oh, Professor Trelawney, Cheyenne has the Grim too!" The person shrieked and hurried over to our teacher, handing her the cup. It was Lavender and I cursed myself for not stopping her. Professor Trelawney paled farther and looked about ready to faint. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"They look like Grims if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost closed, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether we're going to die or not!" Harry exploded, taking us all by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at either of us.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest voice. "Yes...please pack away your things..."

Silently the class took our teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away our books, and closed our bags. Even Ron was avoiding my and Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," Professor Trelawney said faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear" - she pointed to Neville - "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took us so long to find her classroom that, early as we had left Divination, we were only just in time.

Harry and I chose a couple of seats right at the back of the room, feeling as though we were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at us, as though we were about to drop dead at any moment. We hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling us about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and we weren't even watching when she transformed herself in front of our eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" Professor McGonagall asked, turning back into herself with a faint _pop_, and staring around at us all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everyone's heads turned toward Harry and I again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading tea leaves, and -"

"Ah, of course," Professor McGonagall said, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Us," Harry and I said together.

"I see," Professor McGonagall said, fixing the two of us with her beady eyes. "Then you should both know, Potter, Power, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of at least one students a year since she arrived at this school. None of them had died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues -"

Professor McGonagall broke off, and we saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney -"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You both look in excellent health ot me, Potter, Power, so you will excuse me if I don't let either of you off homework today. I assure you that if you both die, neither of you need hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Harry and I both felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a couple of lumps of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, we joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"Ron, cheer up," Hermione said, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry, Chey..." he said, in a low, serious voice, "neither of you _have_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, we have," Harry and I said. "We saw one the night we left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," Hermione said calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry and Chey've seen a Grim, that's - that's bad," he said. "My - my uncle Bilius saw one and - and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," Hermione said airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron said, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," Hermione said in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry and Chey're still with us because they're not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, we'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grims in those cups!" Ron said hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," Hermione said coolly.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

"Uh oh..." I said, feeling the color drain from my face. Ron had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrots flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away.

"Nice one, Ron." I growled, grabbing my bag and running after Hermione to calm her down. I followed her all the way to Gryffindor Tower and that was where we remained for the rest of lunch. Hermione wasn't really in the mood to talk, so I left her be to start on some of her homework. When it was almost time for our next lesson, we made our way back downstairs and joined our class, which was heading toward the open oak doors and in the direction of the grounds.

I was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale grey, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as we set off for our first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry and I walked between them in silence as we went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when we spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of us that we realized we must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry and I were quite sure we knew what they were talking about.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.  
"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Harry and I thought that Hagrid was going to lead us into the forest; both Harry and I had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last us a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, we found ourselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it - make sure yeh can see - now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books -"

"How?" called the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" Hagrid asked.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry and myself, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' - hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter _stroke_ 'em," Hagrid said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the wordl. "Look -"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I - I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy said. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry and I muttered together. Hagrid was looking downcast and we both wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," Hagrid said, seeming to have lost his thread, "so - so yeh've got yer books an' - an' - now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from us into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy said loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him -"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry and I repeated, glaring.

"Careful, Powter, there's a dementor behind you -"

"Ooooooh!" Lavender Brown squealed, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward us were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures either Harry or I had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached us and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"

I could kinda see what Hagrid meant. Once I got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, I started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh want ter come a bit nearer -"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," Hagrid said. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry and I had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.

"Right - who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had misgivings. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" Hagrid asked with a pleading look.

"We'll do it," Harry and I said.

There was an intake of breath from behind us, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, Cheyenne, remember your tea leaves!"  
Harry and I ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence and helped me over.

"Good, Harry, Cheyenne!" Hagrid roared. "Right then - let's see how yeh two get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellow, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy, now, Harry, Cheyenne," Hagrid said quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink...Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

My eyes immediately began to sting and tear up, but I didn't dare shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry and I each with one fierce orange eye.

"Tha's it," Hagrid said. "Tha's it, Harry, Cheyenne...now, bow..."

I felt Harry take my hand and I entwined my fingers with his, neither of us feeling much like exposing the back of our necks to Buckbeak, but we did as we were told. We each gave a short bow and then looked up.

The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at us. It didn't move.

"Ah," Hagrid said, sounding worried. "Right - back away, now, yeh two, easy does it -"

But then, to both our enormous surprises, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry, Cheyenne!" Hagrid said, ecstatic. "Right - yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry and I both moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. We both patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry, Cheyenne," Hagrid said. "I reckon he migh' let yeh both ride him!"

This was more than either of us had bargained for. We were used to a broomstick; but we weren't sure a hippogriff would be quite the same.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," Hagrid said, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Then he held his hand out toward me and I took it, his fingers folding easily over mine. He hoisted me up and helped me sit on Buckbeak in front of him. Buckbeak stood up. I wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of me was covered with feathers. Harry had his arms wrapped loosely around my waist.

"Go on, then!" Hagrid roared, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry and I; I just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before we were soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry and I knew which one we preferred; the hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of us, catching us under our legs and making us feel we were about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under my fingers and I didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of our Nimbus Two Thousands, we now felt ourselves rocking backward and froward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with it's wings.

Buckbeak flew us once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry and I had been dreading; we leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling we were going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. We just managed to hold on and push ourselves straight again.

"Good work, Harry, Cheyenne!" Hagrid roared as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by our success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry and I watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry and I to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Powter could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" Hagrid said, having gone very white. "Someone help me - gotta get him outta here -"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Harry and I saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should fire him straight away!" Pansy Parkinson said, crying heavily.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" Dean Thomas snapped. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

We all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" Pansy said, and we all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, Hermione and I proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"D'you think he'll be all right?" Hermione asked nervously.

" 'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," Harry and I said, both of us having had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" Ron asked, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him..."

We were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They _wouldn't_ fire him, would they?" Hermione asked anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," Ron said, who wasn't eating either.

Harry and I were watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. We were sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," Ron said gloomily.

We went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given us, but all four of us kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early..."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Harry and I saw her glance at us.

"We're allowed to walk across the _grounds_," we said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors yet, has he?"

So we put our things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on our way to the front doors, as we weren't entirely sure we were supposed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When we reached Hagrid's hut, we knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told us that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting us into focus.

" 'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized us. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" Hermione gasped.

"Not yet," Hagrid said miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But 's only a matter o' time, i'n't it, after Malfoy..."

"How is he?" Ron asked as we all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," Hagrid said dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony...covered in bandages...moanin'..."

"He's faking it," I said at once. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half Harry's bones last year and helped mend my head, too! Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," Hagrid said miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later...done flobberworms or summat...Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson...'S all my fault..."

"It's all _Malfoy's_ fault, Hagrid!" Hermione said earnestly.

"We're witnesses," Harry said. "Yeah, Hagrid, you said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's fault that he didn't listen. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened." I said, finishing with him.

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," Ron said.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's bettle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug. I flinched at the small cracks coming from both boys.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," Hermione said firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ar, maybe she's right," Hagrid said, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. We heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" Harry asked Hermione nervously as she came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," Hermione said, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"Tha's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching us all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really -"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry and I as though he'd only just realized we were there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that we jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY, CHEYENNE! AN' YOU TWO! LETTIN' 'EM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry and I, grabbed both our arms, and pulled us to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"


	7. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**Chapter Seven**

**The Boggart in the Wardrobe**

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in my and Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson simpered. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Draco said, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry and I saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly.

Harry, Ron, and I scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if _we'd_ walked in late, he'd have given us detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others.

We were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next between Harry and I, separating me from both boys, so that we were all preparing our ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm -"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said without looking up.

Ren went brick red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.

I quickly cleared my throat, "I'll do it, I'm almost done." I said, grabbing my knife, pulling his roots toward me, and beginning to carefully cut his roots into equal sized pieces.

Professor Snape swept over to our table and stopped my knife, "Power, I told Weasley to cut up Malfoy's roots." he growled. Malfoy held up a hand, "It's all right, Professor, as long as they get cut up." Snape narrowed his eyes maliciously and squeezed my hand painfully. I squeaked softly and was relieved when he released me and left to torture some of the other Gryffindors. I returned to carefully cutting up the roots, being sure not to mess up.

"You know, Power," I could hear the smirk in his voice, but didn't look up, nearly done with cutting up his roots. "You look like a house-wife making dinner for her husband. Whose it for, Potter or one of those Weasel twins?" I could feel the heat rush into my face and I accidently nicked my thumb. I hissed and brought my thumb to my lips, licking away the blood. I heard Malfoy laugh, but didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my frustration and returned to cutting up his roots. Once I was done, I shoved the cut up roots back toward him and turned back to my own potion. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry glaring at Malfoy, his cheeks tinted pink.

"Sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy said, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape said, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him and I.

Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig and skinned it as fast as he could before he flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked us quietly.

"None of your business," Ron said jerkily, without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy said in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury -"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," Ron snarled.

"- he's complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" - he gave a huge, fake sigh - "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"It won't be if I have anything to say about it." I growled under my breath, adding my roots to my potion.

"So that's why you're putting it on," Harry said, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," Malfoy said, lowering his voice to a whisper, _"partly,_ Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned -

"Orange, Longbottom," Snape said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," Hermione said, "please, I could help Neville put it right -"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.

"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus Finnigan said, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have you and Cheyenne heard? _Daily Prophet_ this morning - they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" Harry and Ron asked quickly. From beside me, I saw Malfoy look up, listening closely, but I was far too interested in the conversation to tell him off.

"Not too far from here," Seamus said, looking excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Couse, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here...," Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry and I. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on both Harry and I. He leaned closer to me, partly across the table. I scooted away from him, grimacing.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black by yourselves, Powter?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry and I said offhandedly.

Malfoy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "Id have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron asked roughly.

"Don't either of you _know_, Powter?" Malfoy breathed, his pale eyes narrowed.

"Know what?"

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your necks," he said. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

_"What are you talking about?"_ Harry said angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see. Harry, Ron, and I packed away out unused ingredients and went to wash our wands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to Ron and I as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth. "Why would Chey and I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to us - yet."

"He's making it up," Ron said savagely. "He's trying to make you both do something stupid..."

"Ron is right, Harry. Remember, this is the boy that's milking an injury we know is completely mended thanks to our school nurse, just so he can fire Hagrid," I said, rinsing off my ladle with a clean clothe.

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," Snape said, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He tricked a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry and I were still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"

Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around.

"Where is she?"

Harry and I turned too. We were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass us, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"She was right behind us," Ron said, frowning.

Malfoy passed us, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and I and disappeared.

"There she is," Harry said, pointing.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked.

"What?" Hermione asked, joining us.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione said, looking slightly confused. "Oh - I had to go back for something. Oh no -"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Neither Harry nor I were surprised; we could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many subjects I'm taking," Hermione said breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But -" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," Hermione said vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Harry and I.

Professor Lupin wasn't there when we arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. We all sat down, took out our books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. We had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson before, unless we counted the memorable class last year when our old teacher had brough a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," Professor Lupin said, when we were all ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, we all got to our feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led us along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing we saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin -"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to our surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely.

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, _"Waddiwasi!"_ and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" Dean Thomas said in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," Professor Lupin said, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

We set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led us down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," Professor Lupin said, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger or -" he paused, his black eyes falling on me, his sneer widening -"Miss Power is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harry and I glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this _was_ something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin said. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks - I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a boggart?"

Hermione and I put our hands up.

"It's a shape-shifter," we said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin said, and Hermione and I smiled at each other. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," Professor Lupin said, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Knowing trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air was a bit unnerving, I tried my best to restrain myself so he could answer.

"Er - because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," Professor Lupin said, and Hermione put her hand down, looking slightly disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake - tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_. What you need is do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please..._riddikulus_!"

_"Riddikulus!"_ the class said together.

"Good," Professor Lupin said. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," Professor Lupin said. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," Professor Lupin said cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape...hmmm...Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er - yes," Neville said nervously. "But - I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Professor Lupin said, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell me what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well...always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress...green, normally...and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" Professor Lupin prompted.

"A big red one," Neville said.

"Right then," Professor Lupin said. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," Neville said uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," Lupin said. "And you will raise your wand - thus - and cry _'Riddikulus'_ - and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," Professor Lupin said. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

The room went quiet. I didn't have to think for long since I already knew my greatest fear: spiders! Oh, how I loathed those big, hairy, eight-legged creatures, they freaked me right out the door. But before I'd even started to plan a possible counterattack on a boggart-spider, a horrible image came floating to the surface of my mind...

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak...a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth...then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning...

I shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." I was sure I knew what that was about. Like me, Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

"Everyone ready?" Professor Lupin asked.

I felt my stomach drop in fear. I wasn't ready. How could I make a dementor less frightening? But I didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," Professor Lupin said. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward... Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot -"

We all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. I scooted closer to Harry, shivering and felt him wrap a light arm around my waist. I rested my arm over his, taking his hand. Neville looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," Professor Lupin said, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One - two - three - _now_!"

A jet of sparks spot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

_"R - r - riddikulus_!" Neville squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge cimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising -

_"Riddikulus!"_ Parvati cried.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" Professor Lupin roared.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

_Crack!_ Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face - a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made my blood run cold and freeze in my veins -

_"Riddikulus!"_ Seamus shouted.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

_Crack!_ The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then - _crack_ - became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before - _crack!_ - becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" Lupin shouted. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward.

_Crack!_ The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

_"Riddikulus!"_ Dean yelled.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

_Crack!_

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. I shivered, goosebumps rushed up my arms. For a moment, I thought Ron had frozen. Then -

_"Riddikulus!"_ Ron bellowed, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at my and Harry's feet. I shrieked and Harry pushed me behind him, raising his wand, ready, but -

"Here!" Professor Lupin shouted suddenly, hurrying forward.

_Crack!_

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then we saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, _"Riddikulus!"_ almost lazily.

_Crack!_

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" Lupin said as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. _Crack!_ Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward loking determined.

_"Riddikulus!"_ he shouted, and we had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" Professor Lupin cried as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone...Let me see... five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart - ten for Neville because he did it twice...and five each to Hermione, Harry, and Cheyenne."

"But we didn't do anything." Harry said.

"You two and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me...to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Harry and I, however, weren't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had deliberately stopped us from tackling the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry and I collapse on the train, and thought we weren't up to much? Had he thought we both would pass out again?

But no one else seemed to have noticed anything.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" Seamus shouted.

"And the hand!" Dean said, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" Lavender said thoughtfully. I frowned, thinking of what shape the boggart had taken when it faced Professor Lupin. It didn't look too much like a crystal ball. Curious...

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Ron said excitedly as we made our way back to the classroom to get our bags.

"He seems like a very good teacher," Hermione said approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart -"

"What would it have been for you?" Ron asked, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"


	8. Flight of The Fat Lady

**Chapter Eight**

**Flight of The Fat Lady**

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, we studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps we moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looks like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Harry and I only wished we were as happy with some of our other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Harry and I were also growing to dread the hours we spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at either of us. We couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things we didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry and I, as though we were on our deathbeds.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. We were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone _bother_ looking after them?" Ron said, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats.

My art and music lessons were fun, though, so at least I had a couple of classes to look forward to.

At the start of October, however, Harry and I had something else to occupy us, something so enjoyable it more than made up for some of our unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

There were seven to eight people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players; a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker and his Helper, both of whom had the hardest job: finding and catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker and Helper's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his seven fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance - _my_ last chance - to win the Quidditch Cup," he told us, striding up and down in front of us. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world - unjuries - then the tournament getting called off last year..." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the _best - ruddy - team - in - the - school,"_ he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

"We've got three _superb_ Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"We've got two _unbeatable_ Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," Fred and George Weasley said together, pretending to blush. I giggled and Fred smiled, really blushing.

"And we've got a Seeker and Helper who've _never failed to win us a match_!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry and I with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," George said.

"Spanking good Keeper," Fred and I said together. I blushed and Fred grinned.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry and Cheyenne've joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing..."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," Fred said.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" Angelina said.

"Definitely," Harry and I said.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish either my or Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Harry and I returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What happened?" we asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," Ron said, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," Fred said, who had followed Harry and I through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets. Maybe you could come with me Chey and then I could take you to the Three Broomsticks for a hot butterbeer, huh?" He turned to me, raising his eyebrows and grinning. I blushed lightly, but said I didn't have permission. A glint shone in his eyes and he moved away, the grin still turning up the corners of his lips.

I slowly sat down in a chair next to Hermione, my high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read my and Harry's minds.

"Harry, Chey, I'm sure you'll both be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," Ron said. "Ask McGonagall if you can both go this time, Harry, Chey. The next one might not be for ages -"

_"Ron!"_ Hermione said. "Harry and Chey're supposed to stay _in school_ -"

"They can't be the only third years left behind," Ron said. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry, Chey -"

"Yeah, I think we will," Harry said, glancing at me. I smiled lightly and nodded in agreement.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" Ron asked, scowling.

"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" Hermione said.

Crookshanks slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," Ron said irritably, turning back to his star chart. "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag."

Harry and I yawned. We both really wanted to go to bed, but we still had out own star chaarts to complete. We pulled our bags toward us, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started to work.

"You both can copy mine, if you like," Ron said, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward Harry and I.

Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.

"OY!" Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. "GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!"

Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.

"Ron, don't hurt him!" Hermione squealed; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top -

"CATCH THAT CAT!" Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.

George Weasley made a lung for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a half, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw.

Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.

"Look at him!" he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. "He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!"

"Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" Hermione said, her voice shaking. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" Ron said, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. "It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish," Hermione said impatiently. "Crookshanks could _smell_ him, Ron, how else d'you think -"

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" Ron said, ignoring the people around him, who were staring to giggle. "And Scabbers was here first, _and_ he's ill!"

Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, Hermione, and I were working together on the same puffapod.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as we stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking," Ron said angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" Professor Sprout cried as the beans burst into bloom before our very eyes.

We had Transfiguration next. Harry and I, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether we could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how we were going to argue our case. We were distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" Hermione asked anxiously as she, Harry, Ron, and I went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," Hermione said, "I'm sorry, Lavender."

"I should have known!" Lavender said tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"Er -"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You - you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a _fox_," Lavender said, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was _obviously_ dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh," Hermione said. She paused again. Then -

"Was Binky an _old_ rabbit?"

"N - no!" Lavender said. "H - he was only a baby!"

Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders.

"Um, Hermione, I don't th -" I started to say, but she ignored me.

"But then, why would you dread him dying?" Hermione asked.

Parvati glared at her.

"Hermione!" I said, trying to get her attention to get her to stop talking about it, knowing Lavender probably didn't want to be interrogated just after her pet died.

"Well, look at it logically," Hermione said, ignoring me again and turning to the rest of the group. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today -" Lavender wailed louder (Oi ve," I groaned, hiding my face in my hands) " - and she _can't_ have been dreading it, because i'ts come as a real shock -"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," Ron said loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were glaring daggers at each other, and when we got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Harry and I, and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

Neither Harry nor I had decided what we were going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand.

"Please, Professor, I - I think I've lost -"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," Professor McGonagall said. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave."

"Ask her now," Ron hissed at Harry and I.

"Oh, but -" Hermione began.

"Go for it, Harry, Chey," Ron said stubbornly.

Harry and I waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, Potter, Power?"

Harry and I each took a deep breath.

"Professor, our aunt and uncle - er - forgot to sign our forms," we said.

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at us but didn't say anything.

"So - er - d'you think it would be all right - We mean, will it be okay if we - if we go to Hogsmeade?"

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.

"I'm afraid not, Potter, Power," she said. "You both heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But - Professor, our aunt and uncle - you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand about - about Hogwarts forms and stuff," Harry said, while Ron egged us on with vigorous nods. "If you said we could go -"

"But I don't say so," Professor McGonagall said, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission." She turned to look at us, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Potter, Power, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll both be late for your next lesson."

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an "all-for-the-best" expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry and I had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.

"There's always the feast," Ron said, in an effort to cheer Harry and I up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening."

"Yeah," Harry said gloomily as I laid my head on the table, "great."

The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if we were coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made us feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signature on the forms, but as Harry and I had already told Professor McGonagall we hadn't had them signed, that was no good. Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloaks, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron that Dumbledore had told us about the dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what was possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, Harry, Cheyenne, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Harry, Cheyenne, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

On Halloween morning, Harry and I awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing our best to act normally.

"We'll bring you both lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," Hermione said, looking desperately sorry for us.

"Yeah, loads," Ron said. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of my and Harry's difficulties.

"Don't worry about us," Harry and I said, in what we hoped was a offhand tone, "We'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."

We accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Powter?" Malfoy shouted, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the dementors?"

Harry and I ignored him and made our way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, jerking out of a doze.

"Fortuna Major," Harry and I said listlessly.

The portrait swung open and we climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

"Harry! Cheyenne! Hi, Harry, Cheyenne!"

It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of the two of us and never missed an opportunity to speak to us.

"Aren't you two going to Hogsmeade? Why not? Hey" - Colin looked eagerly around at his friends - "you two can come and sit with us, if you like!"

"Er - no, thanks, Colin," Harry and I said quickly, neither of us in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scars on our foreheads. "We've - we've got to go to the library, got to get some work done."

After that, we had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.

"What was the point of waking me up?" the Fat Lady called grumpily after us as we walked away.

Harry and I wandered dispiritedly toward the library, but halfway there we changed our minds; we didn't feel like working. We turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

"What are you two doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously.

"Nothing," Harry said truthfully.

"Nothing!" Filch spat, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around on your own - why aren't you two in Hogsmeade buying Stick Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends? Did ya need time to snog by yourselves? I've seen you two hanging out enough to think you'd be together!"

We both blushed furiously. "We weren't doing anything, Mr. Filch and we'd appreicate it if you wouldn't pry into our private lives." I said. Filch narrowed his eyes on the two of us.

"Get back to your common room where you both belong!" He snapped, and he stood glaring until Harry and I had passed out of sight.

But neither of us felt like going back to the common room; we climbed a staircase, thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig and Elon, and we were walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, "Harry, Cheyenne?"

Harry and I doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.

"What are you two doing?" Lupin asked, though in a very different voice from Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," Harry said in a would-be casual voice.

"Ah," Lupin said. He considered the two of us for a moment. "Why don't you both come in? I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" Harry asked.

We followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," Lupin said, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You both notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

"Cup of tea?" Lupin asked, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

"All right," Harry and I said awkwardly.

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Sit down," Lupin said, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid - but I daresay you've both had enough of tea leaves?"

Harry and I looked at him. Lupin's eyes were twinkling.

"How did you know about that?" We asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," Lupin said, passing Harry and I each a chipped mug of tea. "Neither of you is worried, are you?"

"No," Harry and I said.

We thought for a moment of telling Lupin about the dog we'd seen in Magnolia Crescent but decided not to. We didn't want Lupin to think we were cowards, especially since Lupin had already seemed to think we couldn't cope with a boggart.

Something of our thoughts seemed to have shown on our faces, because Lupin said, "Anything worry either of you, Harry, Cheyenne?"

"No," We lied. We drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandishing a fist at us. "Yes," we said suddenly as Harry put his tea down on Lupin's desk. "You know the day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes," Lupin said slowly.

"Why didn't you let us fight it?" Harry asked abruptly.

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"I would have though that was obvious, Harry," he said, sounding surprised.

Harry and I had expected Lupin to deny that he'd done any such thing, but he was taken aback.

"Why?" I questioned quietly.

"Well," Lupin said, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the boggart faced one of you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry and I stared, then glanced at each other. Not only was this the last answer we'd expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry and I had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from ourselves) was Professor Dumbledore.

"Clearly, I was wrong," Lupin said, still frowning at us. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."

"We didn't think of Voldemort," Harry and I said honestly. "We - we remembered those dementors."

"I see," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Well, well...I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on my and Harry's faces. "That suggests that what you two fear most of all is - fear. Very wise, Harry, Cheyenne."

Neither Harry nor I knew what to say to that, so we drank some more tea.

"So you've both been thinking that I didn't believe either of you capable of fighting the boggart?" Lupin asked shrewdly.

"Well...yes," I said. I was suddenly feeling a lot happier. "Professor Lupin, you know the dementors -"

I was interrupted by a knock on the floor.

"Come in," Lupin called.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry and I, his black eyes narrowing. I turned my gaze away, forging interest in my tea.

"Ah, Severus," Lupin said, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry, Lupin and I.

"I was just showing Harry and Cheyenne my grindylow," Lupin said pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

"Fasinating," Snape said, without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin.

"Yes, yes, I will," Lupin said.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."

"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all," Snape said, but there was a look in his eye neither Harry nor I liked. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Harry and I looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," he said. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

"Why -" Harry began as I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. Lupin looked up at us and answered Harry's unfinished question.

"I've been feeling a bit off-color," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."

Professor Lupin took another sip and I felt my hand itch to slap that goblet out of his hands.

"Professor Snape's very interested in the Dart Arts," Harry blurted out.

"Really?" Lupin said, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

"Some people reckon -" Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dart Arts job."

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.

"Disgusting," he said. "Well, Harry, Cheyenne, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you both at the feast later."

"Right," Harry said as we both put down our empty teacups.

The empty goblet was still smoking.

"Here you go," Ron said. "We got as much as we could carry."

A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into my and Harry's laps. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," Harry said as I picked up a pack of tiny black Pepper Imps. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"

By the sound of it - everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop. Zonko's Zoke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides.

"The post office, Harry, Chey! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look -"

"We _think_ we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks -"

"Wish we could have brought you both some butterbeer, really warms you up -"

"What did you two do?" Hermione asked, looking anxious. "Did either of you get any work done?"

"No," I admitted. "Lupin made us a cup of tea in his office. And then Snape came in..."

We told them all about the goblet. Ron's mouth fell open.

_"Lupin drank it?" _he gasped. "Is he mad?"

Hermione checked her watch.

"We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes..." We hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"But if he - you know" - Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around - "if he _was_ trying to - to poison Lupin - he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry and Chey."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry and I said as we reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry and I both kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Harry and I moved our eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Were we imagining it, or were Snape's eyes flicking toward Lupin more often than was natural?

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the castle walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

It had been such a pleasant evening that neither my nor Harry's good moods could even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as we all left the hall, "The dementors send their love, Powter!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when we reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, we found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry and I peered over the heads in front of us. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password - excuse me, I'm Head Boy -"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. We heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, who had just arrived.

"What do you think could've happened?" Fred said, appearing then, hovering around me like he was afraid I was about to be attacked.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, Ginny, and I moved closer to see what the trouble was.

"Oh, my -" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and Fred touched my shoulder.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," We heard Dumbledore say. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" a cackling voice said.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry. I felt Fred sneak an arm around my waist and pull me protectively back against his chest.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" Dumbledore said calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," Peeves said, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see," Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."


	9. Grim Defeat

**Chapter Nine**

**Grim Defeat**

Professor Dumbledore sent us Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where we were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told us as Professor McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" Percy shouted. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry, Hermione, and I; we seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," Ron said.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," Hermione said as we climbed fully dressed into our sleeping bags and propped ourselves on our elbows to talk. I'd climbed into a sleeping bag with Harry, a little frightened by this new development and just wanting to be near him. I had my back against his chest and his free arm was wrapped protectively around my waist. "The one night we weren't in the tower..."

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," Ron said. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered.

All around us, people were asking one another thre same question: _"How did he get in?"_

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," we heard a Ravenclaw say from a few feet away. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," a Hufflepuff fifth year said.

"He could've flown in," Deam Thomas suggested.

"Honestly, are Chey and I the _only_ people who've ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, A History_?" Hermione said crossly to Harry, Ron, and I.

"Probably," Ron said. "Why?"

"Because the castle's protected by more than _walls_, you know," Hermione said. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret paggages, they'll have them covered..."

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Harry and I felt as though we were sleeping outdoors in a light wind. I'd turned onto my other side so I faced Harry and hid my face in his chest, closing my eyes. Harry leaned his head down and I felt him bury my face in my hair, giving a soft sigh.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in. I looked over my shoulder and Harry and I watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short way away from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, all four of us quickly pretending to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy asked in a whisper.

"No. All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

I heard the door of the hall creak open again, and more footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. Harry and I kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"  
"All searched..."

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" Snape asked.

I felt Harry lift his head very slightly off his arm and knew he was trying to free his other ear to listen more effectively.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

I opened my eyes just slightly more, turning my head just a fraction to squint up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to us, but I could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before - ah - the start of term?" Snape asked, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"I do, Severus," Dumbledore said, and there was something like warning in his voice.

"It seems - almost impossible - that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed -"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Dumbledore said, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn't reply. "I must go down to the dementors," Dumbledore said. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy said.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said coldly. "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

Harry and I both glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was all that about?" Ron mouthed.

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of our next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwards, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a complete lunatic," Seamus Finnigan said angrily to Percy one day. "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," Percy replied. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

Sir Cadogan, however, was the least of either my or Harry's worries. We were now being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with us, and Percy Weasley (acting, Harry and I both suspected, on his mother's orders) was tailing us both everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog. To cap it all, Professor McGonagall summoned the two of us into her office, with such a somber expression on her face we both thought someone must have died.

"There's no point hiding it from either of you any longer, Potter, Power," she said in a very serious voice. "I know this will come as a shock to both of you, but Sirius Black -"

"We know he's after us," Harry and I said wearily. "We heard Ron's dad telling his mum. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic."

Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. She stared at Harry and I for a moment or two, then said, "I see! Well, in that case, Potter, Power, you'll both understand why I don't think it's a good idea for either of you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only your team members, it's very exposed -"

"We've got our first match on Saturday!" Harry and I said, outraged, "We've got to train, Professor!"

Professor McGonagall considered us intently. Harry and I knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team's prospects; it had been she, after all, who'd suggested us as Seeker and Helper in the first place. We waited, holding our breaths.

"Hm..." Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out of the window at the Quidditch field, just visible through the rain. "Well... goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the Cup at last... but all the same, Potter, Power...I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions."

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. Then, at our final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave the team some unwelcome news.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told us, looking very angry. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" we all chorused together.

"Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," Wood said, grinting his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weeather. Think it'll damage their chances..."

There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Wood spoke, we heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"There's _nothing wrong_ with Malfoy's arm!" Harry and I both said furiously. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," Wood said bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory -"

Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and I suddenly giggled together.

"What?" Wood asked, frowning at our sudden lighthearted behavior.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" Angelina asked.

"Strong and silent," Katie said and we all started to giggle again.

"Oh, I heard he's sweet too, under that tough guy facade he puts up," I said, smiling, making the girls giggle louder.

"No, he's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," Fred said impatiently, making me raise my eyebrows and Harry smirk. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver. Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker who doesn't even need a Helper! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We _must_ win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" Fred said, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. _Seriously._"

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the ran fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" he sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows.

Neither Harry nor I had room in our minds to worry about anything except the match tomorrow. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to us between classes and giving us each tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Harry and I suddenly realized we were ten minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and set off at a run with Wood shouting after us, "Diggory's got a very fast swerve, Harry, Cheyenne, so you both might want to try looping him -"

Harry and I skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside.

"Sorry we're late, Professor Lupin, we -"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at us from the teacher's desk; it was Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, Power, so I'll think we'll make it twenty points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But neither of us moved.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asked as I tried to link some things together.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you both to sit down?"

But Harry and I stayed where we were.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

Snape's black eyes glittered.

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Ten more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask either of you to sit down again, it will be a hundred."

Harry and I walked slowly to our seats and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Potter and Power interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far -"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione said quickly, "and we're just about to start -"

"Be quiet," Snape snapped coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean Thomas said boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you - I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss -"

We watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know we hadn't covered.

" - werewolves," Snape finished.

"But, sir," Hermione said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks -"

"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. _"All_ of you! _Now!"_

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. I held my hand in the air timidly.

"Anyone?" Snape asked, ignoring my and Hermione's hands. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between -"

"We told you," Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on -"

_"Silence!"_ Snape snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..."

"Please, sir," Hermione said, her hand still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several ways. The snout of the werewolf -"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that we were all glaring at him, because every one of us had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

We all knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. We sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work we had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained...That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia...Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three..."

When the bell rang at last, Snape held us back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I went two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

Harry actually had to drag me out of the room after Hermione as I nearly ran up to our teacher and sucker punched him. As soon as we were well out of earshot, we burst into a furious tirade about Snape.

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry was saying to Hermoine as he rubbed my shoulders soothingly. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the boggart?"

"I don't know," Hermione said pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..."

Ron caught up with us five minutes later, in a towering rage.

"D'you know what that -" (he called Snape something that made Hermione say _"Ron!"_) " - is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. _Without magic!"_ He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. "Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"

I awoke extremely early the next morning; so early that it was still dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken me. Then I felt a cold breeze on the back of my neck and sat bolt upright - Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to me, blowing hard in my ear.

"What did you do that for?" I gritted out angrily.

Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling.

I fumbled blindly around for my watch and pushed on the buttom on the side, making the face light up with a sea green glow. It was fourty after four. Growling to myself, I knew I couldn't go back to sleep now and just decided to get up and get ready. It was hard enough to think with the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours I would be out on that Quidditch patch, battling through that gale. With a deep sigh, I threw my blankets off and got up, stretched and got dressed. Tightening my hairband around my hair, I pushed the few stray strands out of my gaze, grabbed my Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room and I was surprised no one else but Harry was downstairs, sitting in front of the fire, during this storm. I sat in a chair next to him with a sigh, laying my broomsticks across my lap. Bit Harry and I knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Nevertheless, we were both starting to feel very apprehensive. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory to the two of us in the corridor; Diggory was a fifth year and a lot bigger than both of us. Seekers, and their Helpers, too, were usually light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course.

Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, him getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again. At long last we thought it must be time for breakfast, so we headed through the portrait hole by ourselves.

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur! I will fight you for your young lady, there!" Sir Cadogan yelled.

"Oh, shut up," Harry and I yawned.

We revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge and pancakes, and by the time we'd started on toast, there rest of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," Wood said, not eating anything.

"Stop worrying, Oliver," Alicia said soothingly, "we do'nt mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before we entered the locker room, Harry and I saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at us from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium.

The team changed into our scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned us to follow him.

The wind was so strong that we staggered sideways as we walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, we couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. I could see rain splattering over Harry's glasses as the rain rolled off mine easily, thanks to a water repellent charm I'd placed on them. I'd forgotten to do Harry's too and was just about to ask him when my voice was lost in the wind.

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. I could see Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms." I pulled my right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over my Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant - we were off.

Harry and I rose fast, but our Nimbus' were swerving slightly with the wind. We held them as steady as we could and turned, staring/squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes I was soaked to my sink and frozen, _just_ able to see my teammates and the opposing team. We would split up and move over the field, avoiding red and yellow blurs, unable to know what was going on in the game because of the fierce winds drowning out the commentary. The crowd was hidden beanth a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice, I managed to get Harry out of the way of a Bludger, but just barely and I could see his vision was really clouded and his glasses in need of a charm to clear them.

We lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold our brooms straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice, I helped Harry avoid another player, knowing he couldn't tell if it was an opponent or teammate and it was getting harder for me to tell them apart as well; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, I could hardly tell them apart...

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Harry and I could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing us to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at the team. "Come on, under here -"

We huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.

"What's the score?"

"We're fifty points up," Wood said, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses. I snapped my fingers, "Whoo oh, hand 'em over." I said, holding my hand out. He handed his glasses over and I took out my wand.

"I did this charm on my glasses too, but forgot to tell you before we left the locker room." I said and the team watched in amazement as I tapped them with my wand and said, _"Impervius!"_

"There," I said, putting them gently back on Harry's face and scooting them up his nose. "They'll repel water now! Hermione and I found out about it just for this occasion. I apologize for not doing it earlier." I said, smiling sheepishly.

Wood looked as though he could've kissed me.

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely as I returned my wand to my robes. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"

I know my spell had done the trick as soon as we got into the air. Although he was numb with cold and wetter tan he'd ever been in his life, I knew he could see and I saw the fresh determination on his face. We both urged our broms through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who was streaking in the opposite direction...

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly -

We turned together, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry and I saw something that distracted us completely - the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

I jerked my hands, making my broom swerve sideways and I could feel myself slip sideways before I got a better grip on my Nimbus and straightened myself. Shaking the sodden pieces of hair from my eyes, I squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

"Harry! Cheyenne!" Wood's anguished yell reached us from the Gryffindor goal posts. "Behind you!"

We both looked wildly around. Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between us -

With a couple of jolts of panic, Harry and I threw ourselves flat to our broomsticks and zoomed toward the other Seeker.

"Come on!" I hissed at my broom as the rain whipped my face. _"Faster!"_

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though I'd suddenly gone deaf - what was going on?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over me, inside me, just as I became aware of something moving on the field below...

Before I had time to think, I took my eyes off the Snitch and Cedric and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at me and Harry, were standing beneath me. It was as though freezing water were rising in my chest, cutting at my insides. And then my mind was filled with that familiar sound...Someone screaming, screaming inside my head...a couple of woman...

_"Not Harry or Cheyenne, not them, please not them!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girls...stand aside, now..."_

_"Not Harry/Cheyenne, please, no, take us, kill us instead -"_

My lungs froze and my eyes burned as I closed them, gritting my teeth. Suddenly, numbing, swirling white mist was filling my brain...What was I do? Why was I flying? I needed to help her... No, _we _needed to help _them_...They were going to die...They were going to be murdered...

I was falling, falling through the icy mist.

_"Not Harry or Cheyenne! Please...have mercy...have mercy..."_

A shrill voice was laughing, the women were screaming, and I knew no more.

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought they were dead for sure."

"Didn't even break their glasses."

I could hear voices whispering, but I couldn't make sense of them. I didn't have a clue where I was, or how I'd got there, or what I'd been doing before I got here. All I knew was that every inch of me was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest...the scariest thing...hooded black figures...cold... screaming...

A gasp tore from my throat and my eyes snapped open as I bolted upright, panting. I was in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around my bed and a second one next to it. Ron and Hermione were there too, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Cheyenne! Harry!" Fred said, looking extremely white underneath the mud. "How're you both feeling?"

It was as though my memory was on fast forward. The lightning - the Grim - the Snitch - and the dementors...And then... Harry!

"Harry, where's Harry?" I squeaked, moving to swing my legs off the bed, but Fred stopped me, pointing to the bed next to mine, where my best friend lay. I took a deep breath, relaxing at seeing him safe.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up so suddenly that they all gasped.

"You both fell off," Fred said. "Must've been - what - fifty feet?" He allowed me to swing my feet off the side and sit on the edge of my bed. He sat next to me, his arm around me as though supporting me there.

"We thought you both died," Alicia said, looking shaken.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," I managed to get out. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into me like a stone.

"We didn't - _lose_?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," George said. "Just after you both fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you two on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square...even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" Harry asked, glancing around

"Still in the showers," Fred said. "We think he's trying to drown himself.

I covered my face with my hands and gave a shaky sigh. Fred tightened his arm around me and I turned, burying my face in his uniform, not caring that it was wet or muddy.

"C'mon, Harry, Chey, neither of you has missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time you didn't get it," George said.

"It's not over yet," Fred said. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin..."

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," George said.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw..."

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff..."

"It all depends on the points - a margin of a hundred either way -"

I remained with my face in Fred's uniform, not daring to speak. We had lost...for the first time ever, we had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten mintues or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave us in peace.

"We'll come and see you both later," Fred told us, gently detacting himself from me and kissing my forehead. "Don't beat yourselves up, Harry, Chey, you're both still the best Seeker and Helper we've ever had." He smiled down at me before turning and following his twin toward the door.

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved closer to my and Harry's beds.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you two fell, waved his wand, and you two sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away...He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him -"

"Then he magicked you both onto a couple of stretchers," Ron said. "And walked up to school with you floating on them. Everyone thought you two were..."

His voice faced, but I only half noticed. I was thinking about what the dementors had done to me...and Harry...about the screaming women. We looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at us so anxiously that we quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Did someone get our Nimbus'?"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er -"

"What?" I asked, getting shakily to my feet and plopping down next to Harry on his bed as he looked from one to the other.

"Well...when you both fell off, they got blown away," Hermione said hesitantly.

"And?"

"And they hit - they hit - oh, Harry, Chey - they hit the Whomping Willow."

My insides froze again. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" we said, dreading the answer. I slowly took Harry's hand, giving a really weak squeeze. He didn't respond.

"Well, you both know the Whomping Willow," Ron said. "It - it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought them back just before you both came around," Hermione said in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped two dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of both my and Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomsticks.


	10. The Marauder's Map

**Chapter Ten**

**The Marauder's Map**

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and I in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. We didn't argue or complain, but we wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of our Nimbus Two Thousands. We knew we were being stupid, knew that the brooms were beyond repair, but neither of us could help it; we felt as though we'd lost one of our best friends.

We had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering us up. Hagrid sent up a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looks like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a couple of get-well cards she had made herself, which both sang shrilly unless we kept them shut under our bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told Harry and I (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame either of us in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left our bedsides only at night and even Fred did so, often just coming to sit in my bed with me and try to make me smile or laugh. But nothing anyone said or did could make Harry or I feel any better, because we knew only half of what was troubling us.

Neither of us had told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because we knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, we had nearly been run over by the Knight Buss; the second, fallen fifty feet from our broomsticks. Was the Grim going to haunt us until we actually died? Were we going to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders for the beast?

And then there were the dementors. Both Harry and I felt sick and humiliated every time we thought of them. Everone said the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their heads of their dying parents.

Because both Harry and I knew who those screaming voices belonged to now. We had heard their words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while we lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the dementors approached us, we heard the last moments of both our mothers' lives, their attempts to protect us, Harry and Cheyenne, from Lord Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughter before he murdered them...Harry and I dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on our mothers' voices.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where we were forced to think about other things, even if we had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry and I falling off our brooms. Malfoy spent much of our next Potions class doing dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," Ron said as we headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione."

Hermione peered around the classroom door.

"It's okay!"

Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. Hermione and I glanced at each other, knowing the reason why, but keeping it to ourselves for now. But, nevertheless, he smiled at the class as we took out seats, and everyone burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior while Lupin had been ill.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves -"

" - two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we hadn't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.

The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind -"

" - he wouldn't listen -"

" - _two rolls of parchment!"_

Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

"Oh _no_," Hermione said, looking disappointed. "Chey and I've already finished it!"

We had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking.

"Lures travelers into bogs," Professor Lupin said as we took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hopes ahead - people follow the light - then -"

The hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry and I among them, but -

"Wait a moment, Harry, Cheyenne," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."

Harry and I doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the hinkypunk's box with a cloth.

"I heard about the match," Lupin said, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomsticks. Is there any change of fixing them?"

"No," Harry said. "The tree smashed them both to bits."

Lupin sighed.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy named Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" Harry and I asked with difficulty.

Lupin looked at both of us quickly.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbleodre that angry. They have been growing restless for some time...furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds...I suppose they were the reason you two fell?"

"Yes," I said. I hesitated, glancing at Harry when a question we had to ask burst from us before we could stop ourselves. _"Why?_ Why do they affect us like that? Are we just -?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Professor Lupin said sharply, as though he had read our minds. "The dementors affect you two worse than the others because there are horrors in your linked past that the others don't have."

A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hair and the lines on his young face.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on your long enough to reduce you to something like itself...soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to _you_ _two_, Harry, Cheyenne, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. Neither of you have anything to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near us -" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his voice trailing off. I rubbed his back soothingly. "We can hear Voldemort murdering our mums."

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip my or Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then -

"Why did they have to come to the match?" Harry asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Lupin said coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up...I do'nt think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement...emotions running high...it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," I said, shivering. Lupin nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away..."

Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

"Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible...Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long..."

"_You_ made that dementor on the train back off," Harry said suddenly.

"There are - certain defenses one can use," Lupin said. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" I asked at once. "Can you teach us?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Cheyenne, Harry...quite the contrary..."

"But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, we need to be able to fight them -"

Lupin looked into my and Harry's determined faces, hesitated, then said, "Well...all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

What with the prmise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that we might never had to hear our mothers' deaths again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, my and Harry's moods took a definite upturn. Gryffindor wasn't out of the running after all, although we couldn't afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked the team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Neither Harry nor I saw a hint of a dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The other students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library, neither Harry or I were fooled; they were doing it to keep us company, and we were very grateful.

To everyone's delight except my and Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of term.

"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" Hermione said. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"

Resigned to the fact that we would be the only third years staying behind again, Harry and I borrowed a copy of _Which Broomstick_ from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. We had been riding a couple of the school brooms at team practice, a couple of ancient Shooting Stars, both of which were very slow and jerky; we definitely needed new brooms of our own.

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry and I bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase by ourselves, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.

"Psst - Harry, Cheyenne!"

We turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at us from behind a statue of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously. "How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to give you both a bit of festive cheer before we go," Fred said, with a flirtious wink at me. "Come in here..."

He gently took my hand and led the way into an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Harry and George followed us inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry and I.

"Early Christmas present for you both, Harry, Chey," he said.

Fred let go of my hand and pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry and I, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret to our success," George said, patting the parchment fondly.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you two," Fred said, "but we decided last night, both your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," George said. "We bequeath it to you two. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what do we need with a bit of old parchment?" Harry and I asked.

"A bit of old parchment!" Fred said, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry and I had mortally offended him. My heart tripped over itself. "Explain, George."

"Well...when we were in our first year, Harry, Chey - young, careful, and innocent -"

Harry snorted and I muffled a giggle, chewing my lip and receiving a smirk from Fred. I doubted he and George had ever been innocent.

"- well, more innocent than we are now - we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason -"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual -"

" - detention -"

" - disembowelment -"

" - and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_."

"Don't tell us -" Harry said, starting to grin.

"Well, what would you two've done?" Fred asked. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed - _this_."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," George said. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?"

"Oh yes," Fred said, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding us up," I said, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.

"Oh, are we?" George said.

He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Swiftfall

Providers of Aids to Magical Mischief - Makers

are proud to present

**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry and I bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as my and Harry's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, we noticed something else.

This map showed a set of passages we had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead -

"Right into Hogsmeade," Fred said, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" - he pointed them out - "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about _these_. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it caved in - completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you both might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Swiftfall and Prongs," George sighed, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tiredlessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred said solemnly.

"Right," George said briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it -"

" - or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry, Cheyenne," Fred said, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you both behave yourselves."

"See you both in Honeydukes," George said, grinning.

"And I'll see you in the Three Broomsticks," Fred whispered at me, winking.

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry and I stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. We watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at sometihng on the floor. If Filch really didn't know...we wouldn't have to pass the dementors at all...

But even as we stood there, flooded with excitement, something Harry and I had once heard Mr. Weasley say came floating out of our memory.

_Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain._

This map was one of those dangerous magical objects Mr. Weasley had been warning against..._Aids for Magical Mischief-Makers_...but then, Harry and I reasoned, glancing at each other, we only wanted to use it to get into Hogsmeade, it wasn't as though we wanted to steal anything or attack anyone...and Fred and George had been using it for years without anything horrible happening...

I watched as Harry traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger.

Then, quite suddenly, as though following orders, he rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his robes, took my hand, and we hurried to the door of the classroom. We opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. Very carefully, we edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.

What did we have to do? He pulled out the map again and we saw, to both our astonishments, that new ink figures had appeared upon it, labeled _Harry Potter_ and _Cheyenne Power_. There figures were standing exactly where the real Harry and I were standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. We watched carefully. Our little ink selves appeared to be tapping the witch with our minute wands. Harry and I quickly took out our real wands and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. We looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to our figures. The word inside said, _"Dissendium."_

_"Dissendium!"_ Harry and I whispered, tapping the stone witch again.

At once, the statue's hump opened wide enuogh to admit a fairly thin person. Harry and I glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then he tucked the map away again, hoisted ourselves one at a time into the hole headfirst, and pushed ourselves forward.

We slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. I felt Harry grab my hand and help me up and I tried looking around. It was pitch black. From beside me, I heard Harry mutter, _"Lumos!"_ and the end of his wand lit. We were in a very narrow, low, earth passageway. Harry took out the map and handed it to me. I tapped it with the tip of my wand, and muttered, "Mischief managed!" The map went blank at once. I folded it carefully, tucked it inside my robes, then, heart raccing and feeling both excited an apprehensive, I followed Harry down the passage.

The passage twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. Harry and I hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor. him holding his wand out in front of us.

It took ages, but Harry and I had the thought of Honeydukes to sustain us. After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, we sped up, our faces hot, his feet frigid with cold.

Ten minutes later, we came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above us. Careful not to make any noise, Harry and I began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, we lost count as we climbed, watching our feet...Then, without warning, our heads hit something hard.

It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry and I stood there, massaging the tops of our heads, listening. We couldn't hear any sounds above us. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.

Harry told me we were in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. He climbed out of the trapdoor and helped me out before we replaced it - it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. We crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now we could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.

Wondering what we ought to do, we suddenly heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.

"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out -" said a woman's voice.

A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Harry grabbed my shoulders and pulled me behind an enormous crate to wait for the footsteps to pass. We heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. We might not get another chance -

Quickly and silently, Harry and I dodged out from our hiding place and climbed the steps; looking back, we saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. We reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found ourselves behind the counter at Honeydukes - we ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up.

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at either Harry or I. We edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as we imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry and I were now.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the leviating sherbert balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were 'Special Effects' sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Peppy Imps ("breath fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons. I was almost tempted to get some of those for Aunt Petunia. Almost.

Harry and I squeezed ourselves through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (**UNUSUAL TASTES**). Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. We sneaked up behind them.

"Ugh, no, neither Harry nor Chey would want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.

"How about these?" Ron asked, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," Harry and I said together.

Ron nearly dropped the jar.

_"Harry! Cheyenne!"_ Hermione squealed. "What are you two doing here? How - how did you -"

"Wow!" Ron said, looking very impressed, "you've both learned to Apparate!"

" 'Course we haven't," Harry said. We dropped our voice so that none of the sixth years could hear us and told them all about the Marauder's Map.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to _me_!" Ron said, outraged. "I'm their brother!"

"But Harry and Chey aren't going to keep it!" Hermione said, as though the idea were ludicrous. "They're going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you?"

"No, we're not!" Harry said.

"Are you mad?" Ron asked, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"

"If we hand it in, we'll have to say where we got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!"

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," I said quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already know about four of them. And of the other three - one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one we just came though - well - it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there..."

I hesitated. What if Black did know the passage was there? Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.

**-BY ORDER OF-**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC  
**_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted unpon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.  
Merry Christmas!_

"See?" Ron said quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Anyone, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"

"Yes, but - but -" Hermione seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, neither Harry nor Cheyenne should be coming into Hogsmeade. Neither of them have got a signed form! If anyone finds out, they'll both be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet - what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

"He'd have a job spotting Harry and Chey in this," Ron said, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry and Chey deserve a break."

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.

"Are you going to report us?" Harry asked her, grinning.

"Oh - of course not - but honestly, Harry, Chey -"

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron asked, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven - it burst a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"

When Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the four of us left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside.

Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Harry and I shivered; unlike the other two, we didn't have our cloaks. We headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.

"That's the post office -"

"Zonko's is up there -"

"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack -"

"Tell you what," Ron said, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry and I were more than willing; the wind was fierce and our hands were freezing, so we crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"That's Madam Posmerta," Ron said. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.

Harry, Hermione and I made our way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer. A grinning Fred followed him, holding two more tankards of butterbeer. He sat next to me, wrapping his coat around my shoulders, making me blush.

"Merry Christmas!" Ron said happily, raising his tankard.

I drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of me from the inside.

A sudden breeze ruffled my hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. I peered over the rim of my tankard and choked.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak - Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

In an instant, Fred's hands were on my shoulders and he gently pushed me off my stool and under the table. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Harry and I clutched our empty tankards and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward us.

Somewhere above us, Hermione whispered, _"Mobiliarbus!"_

The Christmas tree beside our table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of our table, hiding us from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Harry and I saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside ours, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next we saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.

"A small gillywater -"

"Mine," Professor McGonagall's voice said.

"Four pints of mulled mead -"

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid said.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella -"

"Mmm!" Professor Flitwick said, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," Fudge's voice said. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us..."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Harry and I watched the glittering heels march away and back again. My heart was pounding uncomfortably in my throat. Why hadn't it occurred to us that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there? We needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if we wanted to return to school tonight...Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch between us.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Madam Rostmerta said.

Harry and I saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Madam Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall said, exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge said shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" Madam Rosmerta said, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away...It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution...unfortunate, but there you are...I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore - he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" Tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked, his feet dangling a foot from the ground.

"All the same," Fudge demurred, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black's capable of..."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Madam Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta said, her voice alive with curiousity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," Fudge said.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta?" Professor McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friends were?"

"Naturally," Madam Rosmerta said, with a small laugh. "Never saw any of them by themselves, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the triple act, Sirius Black, James Potter and Mark Power."

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk and I gasped. Ron kicked him and Fred gently nudged me.

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall said. "Black, Potter and Power. Ring-leaders of their little gang. All three very bright, of course - exceptionally bright, in fact - but I don't think we've ever had such a trio of troublemakers -"

"I dunno," Hagrid chuckled. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought all three were brothers!" Professor Flitwick chimed in. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge said. "Potter and Power trusted Black beyond all their other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lilly, and when Mark married Kristen. Although, he did divide it up with them too. then they named him godfather to Harry and Cheyenne. Neither of them has any idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment them."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse even than that, m'dear..." Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters and Powers knew You-Know-Who was after them all. Dumbledore, who was of course working tiredlessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James, Lilly, Mark, and Kristen at once. He advised them all to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" Madam Rosmerta asked, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find - unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily, James, Mark, and Kristen were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' and Powers' Secret-Keeper?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"Naturally," Professor McGonagall said. "James Potter and Mark Power told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself...and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' and Powers' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta gasped.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters and Powers had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," Professor McGonagall said darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter and Mark Power insisted on using Black?"

"They did," Fudge said heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed -"

"Black betrayed them?" Madam Posmerta breathed.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' and Powers' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it -"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall said.

"I met him!" Hagrid growled. "I musta bin the last er see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry and Cheyenne from Lilly, James, Mark, an' Kristen's house after they was killed! Jus' got 'em outta the ruins, poor little things, with great slashs across their foreheads, an' their parents dead...an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lilly, James, Mark an' Kristen's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared.

"Hagrid, please!" Professor McGonagall said. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lilly, James, Mark, an' Kristen? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry and Cheyenne ter me, Hagrid, I'm their godfather, I'll look after them -' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry and Cheyenne was ter go ter their aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry and Cheyenne there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says.

"I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' and Powers' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him.

_"But what if I'd given Harry and Cheyenne to him, eh?_ I bet he'd've pitched them off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son and daugher! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore..."

A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Posmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew - another of Potters' and Powers' friends. Maddened by frieg, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' and Powers' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew...that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" Madam Rosmerta asked.

"Hero-worshipped Black, Potter, and Power," Professor McGonagall said. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I - how I regret that now..." She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge said kindly. "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses - Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later - told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, "Lilly, James, Mark, and Kristen, Sirius! How could you?" And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy...foolish boy...he was always hopeless at dueling...should have left it to the Ministry..."

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands - I'd've ripped him limb - from - limb," Hagrid growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," Fudge said sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I - I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him...a heap of bloodstained robes and a few - a few fragments -"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.

"Well, there you have it Rosmerta," Fudge said thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

"I wish I could say that he was," Fudge said slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeast unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man - cruel...pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them...but I was shocked at how _normal_ Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored - asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him - and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Madam Rosmerta asked. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his - er - eventual plan," Fudge said evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing...but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again..."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," Professor McGonagall said.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry and I took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappearing behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had disappeared.

"Harry? Chey?"

Ron's, Hermione's, and Fred's faces appeared under the table. They were all staring at us, lost for words.


	11. The Firebolts

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Firebolts**

Neither Harry nor I had a very clear idea of how we had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All we knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that we hardly noticed what we were doing, because our heads were still pounding with the conversation we had just heard.

Why had nobody ever told us? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge...why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the face that my and Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?

Ron and Hermione watched Harry and I nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what we'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by us. Even Fred came by often to see how I was and he didn't dare tell George or Lee Jordan about it. When we went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find. Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. Harry and I, neither of us feeling very festive, snuck quietly up to the empty boys' dormitory and headed staight for his bedside cabinet. I sat on his bed while he pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for - the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given us two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of our mothers and fathers. We sat down side by side on his bed, drew the hangings around us, and started turning the pages, searching, until...

We stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was Harry's father waving up at us, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad. Standing behind them were my parents, waving, eyes ablaze with happiness. And there...that must be him. Their best man...neither Harry nor I had given him a thought before.

If we hadn't known it was the same person, we would never had guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the four people around him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable?

_But the dementors don't affect him, _Harry and I thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. _He doesn't have to hear our mums screaming if they get too close -_

Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet. I turned as he took off his robe and glasses and got into bed again. I took off my glasses too and hid them in the bedside drawer before curling up under the blankets with Harry, who made sude the hangings were hiding us from view.

The dormitory door opened.

"Harry? Chey?" Ron's voice said uncertainly.

But we both lay still, pretending to be asleep. We heard Ron leave again, and Harry rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling. I lay on my side, face buried in his chest, hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

A hatred such as we'd never known before was coursing through Harry and I like poison. We could see Black laughing at us though the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over both our eyes. We watched, as though somebody was playing us a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces. We could hear (though having no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. "It has happened, My Lord...the Potters and Powers have made me their Secret-Keeper..." And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry and I heard inside our own heads whenever the dementors drew near...

"Harry, Chey, you - you two look terrible."

Neither Harry nor I had gotten to sleep until daybreak. We had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, and gone down the spiral staircase together to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked.

"Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" Ron said, watching us both closely. "It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you both up in a minute."

Harry and I each slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.

"Neither of you really look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into our faces.

"We're fine," I said, yawning.

"Harry, Chey, listen," Hermione said, exchanging a look with Ron, "you both must be really upset abuot what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, neither of you must go doing something stupid."

"Like what?" Harry and I asked.

"Like trying to go after Black," Ron said sharply.

Harry and I glanced at each other, able to tell they had rehearsed this conversation while we had been asleep. Neither of us said anything.

"Neither of you will, will you, Harry, Cheyenne?" Hermione asked.

"Because Black's not worth dying for," Ron said.

Harry and I looked at them. They didn't seem to understand at all.

"D'you know what we see and hear every time a dementor gets too near us?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive. "We can hear our mums screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her -"

"There's nothing either of you can do!" Hermione said, looking stricken. "The dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and - and serve him right!"

"You both heard what Fudge said. Black isn't effected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."

"So what are you saying?" Ron asked, looking very tense. "You want to - to kill Black or something?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said in a panicky voice. "Harry and Chey don't want to kill anyone, do you?"

Neither of us answered. We didn't know what we wanted to do. All we knew was that the idea of doing nothing, while Black was at liberty, was almost more than either of us could stand.

"Malfoy knows," Harry said abruptly. "Remember what he said to us in Potions? 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself...I'd want revenge.' "

"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" Ron said furiously. "Listen...you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me - the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, Cheyenne, and he's dangerous -"

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," Harry and I said, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle -"

_"Say You-Know-Who, will you?"_ Ron interjected angrily.

" - so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort -"

" - and Malfoy'd love to see you both blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll both get yourselves killed before he has to play you at Quidditch."

"Harry, Chey, _please_," Hermione said, her eyes now shining with tears, "_please_ be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourselves in danger, it's what Black wants...Oh, Harry, Chey, you'd both be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mums and dads wouldn't want either of you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

"We'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, we've never spoken to them," Harry said shortly as I sniffed, a few tears escaping my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. Harry gently took my hand. "We need to protect one another too. I'm not going to let Black hurt Chey." I squeezed his hand, more tears escaping, "And I can't let him hurt Harry." I said softly.

There was silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously, flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered.

"Look," Ron said, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's - let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!"

"No!" Hermione said quickly. "Neither Harry nor Chey are supposed to leave the castle, Ron -"

"Yeah, let's go," Harry said as we both sat up, "and we can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told us all about our parents!"

Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn't what Ron had had in mind.

"Or we could have a game of chess," he said hastily, "or Gobstones. Percy left a set -"

"No, let's visit Hagrid," Harry said firmly.

So we got our cloaks from our dormitories and set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!"), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front door

We made our way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, our socks and the hems of our cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

"He's not out, is he?" Hermione asked, shivering under her cloak.

Ron had his ear to the door.

"There's a weird noise," he said. "Listen - is that Fang?"

Harry, Hermione, and I put our ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?" Ron asked nervously.

"Hagrid!" Harry and I called, thumping the door together. "Hagrid, are you in there?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.

"Yeh've heard?" he bellowed, and flung himself onto my and Harry's necks.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry and I, about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, were rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

"Hagrid, what _is_ it?" Hermion asked, aghast.

Harry and I spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table.

"What's this, Hagrid?"

Hagrid's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

_Dear Mr. Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" Ron said, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

_However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

_Yours in fellowship,_

There followed a list of the school governors.

"Oh," Ron said. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he'll get off -"

"Yeh don't know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" Hagrid choked, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures!"

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I whip around. Buckbeak the hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

"I couldn't leave him tied up out there in the snow!" Hagrid choked. "All on his own! At Christmas."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I looked at each other. We had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called "interesting creatures" and other people called "terrifying monsters." On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. Infact, by Hagrid's usual standards, he was positively cute.

"You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid," Hermione said, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid's massive forearm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Won't make no diff'rence!" Hagrid sobbed. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak -"

Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms.

"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"He's done more'n enough fer me already," Hagrid groaned. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' them dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around -"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry and I, as though expecting us to start berating Hagrid for not telling us the truth about Black. But neither of us could bring ourselves to do it, not now that we saw Hagrid so miserable and scared.

"Listen, Hagrid," he said, "you can't give up. Hermione's right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses -"

"Wait, I think Hermione and I read somewhere about a case of hippogriff-baiting," I said thoughtfully, looking at her, "where the hippogriff got off. We can look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened." A light came into Hermione's eyes as she remembered and nodded, "Yea, Hagrid, Chey and I'll look it up and take notes so you can use it for Buckbeak's case.

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry, Hermione, and I looked to Ron to help us.

"Er - shall I make a cup of tea?"

Harry raised a brow.

"It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron muttered, shrugging.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, "Yer right. I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together..."

Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid's knee.

"I've not bin meself lately," Hagrid said, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes -"

"We do like them!" Hermione liked at once.

"Yeah, they're great!" Ron said, crossing his fingers under the table. "Er - how are the flobberworms?"

"Dead," Hagrid said gloomily. "Too much lettuce."

"Oh no!" Ron said, his lip twitching.

"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," Hagrid said, with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban -"

He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I watched him breathlessly. We had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione said timidly, "Is it awful in there, Hagrid?"

"Yeh've no idea," Hagrid said quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind...the day I got expelled from Hogwarts...day me dad died... day I had ter let Norbert go..."

His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards.

"Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me sleep...When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go."

"But you were innocent!" I said angrily.

Hagrid snorted.

"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not."

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go...tryin' ter make him fly away...but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An' - an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law..." He looked up at us, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."

The trip to Hagrid's, though far from fun, had nevertheless had the effect on Ron and Hermione had hoped. Though neither Harry nor I had by any means forgotten about Black, we couldn't brood constantly on revenge if we wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I went to the library the next day and returned to the empty common room laden with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. The four of us sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when we ran across something relevant. We even jotted down notes to take to Hagrid when we visited again.

"Here's something...there was a case in 1722...but the hippogriff was convicted - ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting -"

"This might help, look - a manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the manticore off - oh - no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it..."

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.

On Christmas morning, I was gently awoken by Hermione, who shook my shoulder and pulled my blankets off.

"Come on, Chey, presents."

I reached for my glasses and pulled them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of my bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Hermione was already beginning to tear into the paper of her own presents.

"Oh, another sweater from Mrs. Weasley, how sweet. Oooh, it's purple!" she said, smiling.

I slid off my bed and opened one of the parcels. It was a sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well, this one ruby colored with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front. She also sent a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of Chocolate Frogs. As I placed the things on my bed, I saw a long, thin package lying underneath.

I blinked slowly and reached for it, making Hermione look up from unwrapping a new book from her parents. "What's that?" She asked softly.

"I don't know..."

I ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto my bedspread. Hermione's book dropped from her hands and landed on the floor with a loud thump. She immediately moved closer.

"Is that A Firebolt?" she asked, disbelivably.

It was! It was identical to the dream broom Harry and I had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. It's handle glittered as I picked it up. I felt it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for me to mount it. My eyes traveled from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who...who sent it?" Hermione whispered.

I looked through the rest of the wrapping for a note or anything else to show where the broom had come from.

"Nothing! Who could've sent this and who would want to spend this much on _me_?" I questioned, surprised. "I know it wasn't the Dursleys..."

Hermione frowned deeply, chewing her bottom lip. "It can't be Dumbledore, he's headmaster and can't really go giving students stuff like this -"

"It can't be Lupin..." I said softly, chewing my own lip. "If he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes."

"And I can't see Lupin affording something like that..."

Hermione's face suddenly paled. "We should go see Harry and Ron." She said hastily. "Bring your room." I nodded, confused and grabbed my broom. Hermione picked up Crookshanks, who was looking rather grumpy, wearing a string of tinsel around his neck. We left our dormitory and made our way down the spiral staircase before heading for the boys' dormitory at the top of the opposite spiral staircase. We heard laughing inside and Hermione pushed the door open.

"What're you two laughing about?'

We strode in, heading toward the boys, who knelled at the end of Harry's bed, gazing at a second Firebolt.

"Don't bring him in here!" Ron said, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, white-faced, at the second Firebolt.

"Oh, _Harry_! You got one, _too_? Do you know who sent it to you?"

"No idea," Harry said. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

She whited farther, even her hair seemed to take on a paler color. She bit her lip, hard, but no color returned to her face.

"What's the matter with you?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, these are supposed to be really good brooms, aren't they?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly.

"They're the best brooms there are, Hermione," he said.

"So they must've both been really expensive..."

"Probably cost way more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," Ron said happily.

"Well...who'd send Harry and Chey something as expensive as that, and not even tell either of them they'd sent it?" Hermione inquired.

"Who cares?" Ron said impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on yours? Can I?"

"I don't think anyone should ride either of these brooms yet!" Hermione said shrilly.

Harry and Ron looked at her.

"What d'you think Harry and Chey're going to do with them - sweep the floor?" Ron said.

But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest.

"GET - HIM - OUT - OF - HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.

Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrilly, tinny whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it..."

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," Ron said furiously, sitting on Harry's bed and nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stiffled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry and I had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and we were unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry and I said.

"It's stress!" Ron said. "He'd be find if that big stupid furball left him alone!"

But Harry and I, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats living only three years, couldn't help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had enver revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's freguent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, we were both sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died. And the strangest thing, too, was even before Hermione had gotten Crookshanks, Scabbers hadn't looked all too well and I was sure he would look this way, too, even if the ginger cat wasn't around. So then why...

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in our dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry and I gave up trying to make them talk to each other and devoted ourselves to examining our Firebolts, which we had brought down to the common room with us. For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn't say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though they too had been criticizing her cat.

At lunchtime we went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for thirteen, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House Tables...Sit down, sit down!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat down side by side at the end of the table.

"Crackers!" Dumbledore said enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry and I glanced at each other, remembering the boggart. We caught Ron's eye and grinned together; Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once.

"Dig in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As I was helping myself to some mashed potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward us as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore said, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest, more faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair -"

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trewlawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

"Oh, do you all realize the number you are? You are thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"Oh, Sybill, if we are thirteen now and you join us, we shall be fourteen." Professsor McGonagall said impatiently. "Now sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shit and mouth clenched tight as thought expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sybill?"

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore said, indicating that everyone should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" Professor McGonagall said said, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as thought I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," Professor McGonagall said tartly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

"If you must know, Minerva, I ahve seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively flew when I offered to crystal gaze for him -"

"Imagine that," Profesor McGonagall said dryly.

"I doubt," Dumbledore said in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing our party hats, Harry, Ron, and I got up first from the table.

"Coming?" Harry said to Hermione.

"No," Hermione muttered, "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," Ron yawned as we made our way into the entrance hall, which was quiet and deserted.

When we reached the portrait hole, we found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts, and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted us with a flagon of mead.

"Merry - hic - Christmas! Password?"

"Scurvy cur," Ron said.

"And the same to you, sir!" Sir Cadogan roared as the painting swung forward to admit us.

Harry and I went straight to our dormitories, collected the Firebolts, he the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his birthday, brought them downstairs and we sat together, trying to find something to do to the Firebolts; however, there were not bent twigs to clip, and the handles was so shiny already it seemed pointless to polish them. We and Ron simply sat admiring them from every angle until the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

Though Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, Harry and I had seen her in the common room only once before, and that had been to make a very grave announcement. We and Ron stared at her, all three of us holding the Firebolts. Hermione walked around us, sat down, picked up the nearest book, and hid her face behind it.

"So those're it, are they?" Professor McGonagall said beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolts. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you two have each been sent a broomstick, Potter, Power."

Harry, Ron, and I looked around Hermione. We could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside down.

"May I?" Professor McGonagall asked, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling Harry's Firebolt out of his and Ron's hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. Then, she took mine and did the same. "Hmm. And there wasn't a note with either of these, Potter, Power? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," Harry and I both said blankly.

"I see...," Professor McGonagall said. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take these, Potter, Power."

"W - what?" Harry and I said, scrambling to our feet. "Why?"

"They will need to be checked for jinxes," Professor McGonagall said. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip them down -"

"Strip them down?" Ron repeated, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," Professor McGonagall said. "You will both have them back if we are sure they are jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with them!" Harry and I said, our voices shaking slightly. "Honestly, Professor -"

"Neither of you can know that, Potter, Power," Professor McGonagall said, quite kindly, "not until you've both flown them, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that they have not been tampered with. I shall keep you both informed."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolts out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry and I stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.

_"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"_

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought - and Professor McGonagall agrees with me - that those brooms were probably sent to Harry and Chey by Sirius Black."


	12. The Patronuses

**Chapter Twelve **

**The Patronuses**

Both Harry and I knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop us from being angry with her. We had been the owners of the best brooms in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, neither of us knew whether we would ever see them again. We were positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolts now, but what sort of state would they be in once they had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?

Ron was furious with Hermione too. As far as he was concerened, the stripping-down of a couple of brand-new Firebolts was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harry, Ron, and I supposed she had taken refuge in the library and didn't try to persuade her to come back. All in all, we were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.

Wood sought Harry and I out on the night before term started.

"Had a good Christmas?" he asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry, Cheyenne. After last match, you know. If the dementors come to the next one...I mean...we can't affort either of you to - well -"

Wood broke off, look awkward.

"We're working on it," Harry said quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train us to ward off the dementors." Wood raised his eyebrows and looked to me for confirmation, "Harry's right, Oliver. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas."

"Ah," Wood said, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case - I really didn't want to lose either of you as Seeker or Helper, Harry, Cheyenne. And have either of you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No..." Harry and I replied softly.

"What! You'd both better get a move on, you know - neither of you can ride those Shooting Stars against Ravenclaw!"

"They each got a Firebolt for Christmas," Ron said.

_"Firebolts? _No! Seriously! Real - real _Firebolts?"_

"Don't get excited, Oliver," Harry said gloomily as I slumped back into my chair. "We haven't got them anymore. They were confiscated." And we explained all about how the Firebolts were now being checked for jinxes.

"Jinxed? How could they be jinxed?"

"Sirius Black," Harry and I said wearily. "He's supposed to be after us. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent them."

Waving aside the information that a famous murdere was after his Seeker and Helper, Wood said, "But Black couldn't have bought a couple of Firebolts! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Supplies and buy a couple of broomsticks?"

"We know," Harry said, "but McGonagall still wants to strip them down -"

Wood went pale.

"I'll go and talk to her, Harry, Cheyenne," he promised. "I'll make her see reason...Firebolts...real Firebolts, on our team...She wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do...I'll make her see sense. _Firebolts_..."

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for our enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelanwey was now teaching us palmistry, and she lost no time in informing both Harry and myself that we had the shortest life lines she had ever seen.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry and I were keen to get to; after our conversation with Wood, we wanted to get started on our anti-dementor lessons as soon as possible.

"Ah yes," Lupin said, when Harry and I reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see...how about eight o'clock on Thursday? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough...I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this...We can't bring a real dementor into the castle to practice on..."

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ron said as we walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind us. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so fill of books it wouldn't close.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" Ron asked irritably.

"Nothing," Hermione said in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.

"Yes, you were," Ron said. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you -"

"Well, isn't it _obvious_?" Hermione asked with a look of maddening superiority.

"It is kinda obvious..." I said softly, looking at my shoes as the boys shot me glares. "Oh, look, a thingie," I backed up the corridor, putting distance between me and the boys, pretending to be interested in a really shiny suit of armor.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," I heard Ron snap at Hermione.

"Fine," Hermione said haughtily, and she marched off. I squashed myself against the wall to let her past, giving her a good amount of room.

"She does'nt know," Ron said, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

"She...she does know...actually...as...as do I...but, but you two'll need to...to figure it out yourselves." I said, looking at them.

Ron shot me a death glare.

At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry and I left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when we arrived, but we lit the lamps with our wands and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk.

"What's that?" Harry and I asked.

"Another boggort," Lupin said, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you both, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like. Luckily, if two people have the same fear, the boggart won't be confused and will transform into that thing to scare those people. Quite fascinating, really."

"Okay," Harry and I said, trying to sound as thought we weren't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real dementor.

"So..." Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Harry and I should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you both is highly advanced magic, Harry, Cheyenne - well, beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?" I asked nervously.

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," Lupin said, "which is a kind of anti-dementor - a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementors."

I had a sudden vision of Harry and myself crouching behind a Hagrid-sizes figure holding a large club. Professor Lupin continued, "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon - hope, happiness, the desire to survive - but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you both that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards and witches have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?" Harry asked curiously.

"Each one is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

I cast my mind about for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing that had happened to us at the Dursleys' was going to do. Finally, I settled on the moment when I'd ridden my first broomstick.

"Right," I said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of my stomach.

"The incantation is this -" Lupin cleared his throat. _"Expecto patronum!"_

_"Expecto patronum," _Harry and I repeated under our breaths, _"Expecto patronum."_

"Concentrating hard on your happy memories?"

"Oh - yeah -" We said as I quickly forced my thoughts back to that first broom ride. _"Expecto patrono_ - no, _patronum - _sorry - _expecto patronum, expecto patronum_ -"

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of our wands; they looked like wisps of silvery gas.

"Did you see that?" Harry and I said excitedly. "Something happened!"

"Very good," Lupin said, smiling. "Right, then - ready to try it on a dementor?"

"Yes," Harry and I said, gripping our wands very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. We tried to keep our minds on flying, but something else kept intruding...Any second now, we might hear our mothers again...but we shouldn't think that, or we _would_ hear them again, and we didn't want to...or did we?

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry and I, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward us, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over us -

_"Expecto patronum!"_ Harry and I yelled. _"Expecto patronum! Expecto -"_

But the classroom and the dementor were dissolving...I was falling again though thick white fog, and my and Harry's mother's voices were louder than ever, echoing inside my head - _"Not Harry or Cheyenne! Not Harry or Cheyenne! Please - we'll do anything -"_

_"Stand aside. Stand aside, you fools!"_

"Harry! Cheyenne!"

I jerked awake again. I was lying flat on my stomach on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. I didn't have to ask what had happened.

"Sorry, "I muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind my glasses.

"Are you both all right?" Lupin asked.

"Yes..." Harry and I pulled ourselves up on one of the desks and leaning against them.

"Here -" Lupin handed us each a Chocolate Frog. "Eat these before we try again. I didn't expect either of you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Harry and I muttered, biting off the Frogs' heads. "We could hear them louder that time - and him - Voldemort -"

Lupin looked paler than usual.

"Harry, Cheyenne, if neither of you want to continue, I will more than understand -"

"We do!" Harry and I said fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frogs into our mouths. "We've got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? We can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

"All right then...," Lupin said. "You both might want to select new memories, happy memories, I mean, to concentrate on...Those ones don't seem to have been strong enough..."

I thought hard and decided my feelings when Gryffindor had won the House Championship last year had definitely qualified as very happy. I gripped my wand tightly again and took up my position in the middle of the classroom next to Harry.

"Ready?" Lupin asked, gripping the box lid.

"Ready," Harry and I said, trying hard to fill our heads with happy thoughts about Gryffindor winning, and not dark thoughts about what was going to happen when the box opened.

"Go!" Lupin said, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward us -

_"Expecto patronum!"_ Harry and I yelled. _"Expecto patronum! Expecto pat -"_

White fog obscured my senses...big, blurred shapes were moving around me...then came a couple of new voices, men's voices, shouting, panicking -

_"Lily, Kristin, take Harry and Cheyenne, and go! It's him! Go! Run! We'll hold him off -"_

_The sounds of people stumbling from a room - a door bursting open - a cackle of high-pitched laughter -_

"Harry! Cheyenne...wake up..."

Lupin was tapping me hard on the face. This time it was a minute before I understood why I was lying on a dusty classroom floor.

"We heard our dads," Harry and I mumbled. "That's the first time we've ever heard them - they tried to take on Voldemort themselves, to give our mums time to run for it..."

Harry and I suddenly realized that there were tears on our faces mingling with the sweat. We bent our faces as low as possible, wiping them off on our robes, pretending to do up our shoelaces, so that Lupin wouldn't see.

"You heard James and Mark?" Lupin asked in a strange voice.

"Yeah..." Face dry, Harry and I looked up. "Why - you didn't know our dads, did you?"

"I - I did, as a matter of fact," Lupin said. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry, Cheyenne - perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced...I shouldn't have suggested putting either of you through this..."

"No!" Harry said as he got up, grabbing my arms and pulling me up too. "We'll have one more go! We're not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is...Hang on..."

We racked our brains. Really, really happy memories... ones that we could turn into good, strong Patronuses...

The moment when we'd first found out we were a witch and wizard, and would be leaving the Dursleys for Hogwarts! If that wasn't a happy memory, I didn't know what was...Concentrating very hard on how we felt when we'd realized we'd be leaving Privet Drive, we stood tall, took each others hands and faced the packing case once more.

"Ready?" Lupin asked, who looked as though he was doing this against his better judgement. "Concentrating hard? All right - go!"

He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark -

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _Harry and I bellowed. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The screaming inside our heads had started again - except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio - softer and louder and softer again - and we could still see the dementor - it had halted - and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of my and Harry's wands, to hover between us and the dementor, and though our legs felt like water, we were still on our feet - though for how much longer, we weren't sure -

_"Riddikulus!"_ Lupin roared, springing forward.

There was a loud crack, and my and Harry's cloudy Patronuses vanished along with the dementor; we sank into a couple of chairs, feeling as exhausted as if we'd just run a mile, and our legs were shaking. Out of the corner of our eyes, we saw Professor Lupin forcing the boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again...a full moon!

"Excellent!" Lupin said, striding over to where Harry and I sat. "Excellent, Harry, Cheyenne! That was definitely a start!"

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?'

"Not now," Lupin said firmly. "You'd both had enough for one night. Here -"

He handed Harry and I each a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.

"Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"

"Okay," Harry said as I tookd a bite of the chocolate and we watched Lupin extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the dementor. A thought had just occured to us.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "If you know both our dads, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

Lupin turned ver quickly.

"What gives you that idea?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing - well, Harry means, we just knew they were all friends at Hogwarts too..."

Lupin's face relaxed.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd both better be off, Harry, Cheyenne, it's getting late."

Harry and I left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish our chocolates, wishing we hadn't mentioned Black, as Lupin was obviously not keen on the subject. Then my and Harry's thoughts wandered back to our mothers and fathers...

We both felt drained and strangely empty, even though we were so full of chocolate. Terrible though it was to hear our parents' last moments replayed inside our minds, theses were the only times Harry and I had heard their voices since we were very small children. But we'd never be able to produce proper Patronuses if we half wanted to hear our parents again...

"They're dead," we told ourselves and each other sternly. "They're all dead and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back. You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup."

We stood again, crammed the last bit of chocolate into our mouths, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravelclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin's anti-dementor classes, which in themselves was more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry and I had just one night a week to do all our homework. Even so, we weren't showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books. Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.

"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry and I one evening as we sat finishing a couple of nasty essays on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry and I looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

"Doing what?"

"Getting to all her classes!" Ron said. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterdays lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie Macmillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"

Neither Harry nor I had time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; we really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, we were interrupted again, this time by Wood.

"Bad news, Harry, Cheyenne. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolts. She - er - got a bit _shirty_ with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you two staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw either of you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me...you'd think I'd said something terrible...Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it..." He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. " 'As long as necessary, Wood'...I reckon it's time you both ordered a couple of new brooms, Harry, Cheyenne. There's an order form at the back of _Which Broomstick_...you both could get a couple of Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, like Malfoy's got."

"We're not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," Harry and I said flatly.

January faded imperceptibly into February, and my fourteenth birthday came and went without incident, yet there did not seem to be an end to the bitterly cold weather in sight. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but netiher Harry nor I had ordered new brooms. We were now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolts after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully at our shoulders, Hermione rushing past with her face averted.

"No, Potter, Power, neither of you can have them back yet," Professor McGonagall told us the twelifth time this happened, before either of us had even opened our mouths. "We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the brooms might both be carrying Hurling Hexes. I shall _tell_ you both once we've finished checking them. Now, please, stop badgering me."

To make matters even worse, my and Harry's anti-dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as we had hoped. Several sessions on, we were able to produce indistinct, silvery shadows every time the boggart-dementor approached us, but out Patronuses were too feeble to drive the dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining both of us of energy as we fought to keep them there. Harry and I felt angry with ourselves, guilty about our secret desire to hear our parents' voices again.

"You're both expecting too much of yourselves," Professor Lupin said sternly in our fourth week of practice. "For a couple of thirteen-year-olds," "Fourteen," I said softly. He raised a brow, then continued, "All right, a thirteen-year-old wizard, and fourteen-year-old witch, even indistinct Patronuses are a huge achievement. Neither of you are passing out anymore, are you?"

"We thought our Patronuses would - charge the dementors down or something," Harry said dispiritedly. "Make them disappear -"

"The true Patronus does do that," Lupin said. "But you've both achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you'll both be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," I pointed out.

"I have complete confidence in you both," Lupin said, smiling. "Here - you've both earned a drink - something from the Three Broomsticks. Neither of you would've tried it before -"

He pulled three bottles out of his briefcase.

"Butterbeer!" Harry said, without thinking. "Yeah, we like that stu-!" I stomped hard on his foot, shooting him a look.

Lupin raised an eyebrow.

"Ron and Hermione managed to bring us some, when they came back from Hogsmeade," I invented quickly.

"I see," Lupin said, though he still looked slightly suspicious. "Well - let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher...," he added hastily.

We drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something we'd been wondering for a while.

"What's under a dementor's hood?"

Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully.

"Hmmm...well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What is it?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," Lupin said, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what dementors do to those they wish to destory utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and - and suck out his soul."

I choked on a bit of butterbeer that went to fast down my throat and thumped my chest to clear it.

"What - they kill -?"

"Oh no," Lupin said. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart as still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no...anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just - exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever...lost."

Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning. The Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

Harry and I sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. But then we thought of Black.

"He deserves it," we said suddenly.

"You both think so?" Lupin said lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"Yes," Harry and I said defiantly. "For...for some things..."

We would have liked to have told Lupin about the conversation we'd overheard about Black in the Three Broomsticks, about Blck betraying our mothers and fathers, but it would have involved revealing that we'd gone to Hogsmeade without permission, and we knew Lupin wouldn't be very impressed by that. So we finished our butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and left the History of Magic classroom.

Harry and I half wished that we hadn't asked what was under a dementor's hood, the answer had been so horrible, and we were so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that we walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter, Power!"

"Sorry, Professor -"

"I've just been looking for you both in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here they are, we've done everything we could think of, and there doens't seem to be anything wrong with them at all. You've both got a very good friend somewhere, Potter, Power..."

Our jaws dropped. She was holding our our Firebolts, and they looked as magnificent as ever.

"Wew can have them back?" Harry said weakly. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Professor McGonagall said, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll both need to get the feel of them before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter, Power - _do_ try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..."

Speechless, Harry and I carried the Firebolts back upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As we turned a corner, we saw Ron dashing toward us, grinning from ear to ear.

"She gave them to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on one? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah...anything..." Harry said, both our hears lighter than they'd been in a month. I cleared my throat, remorse working thought me. "I think we should make up with Hermione...she was only trying to help..." I said softly, wanting to speak with her again and feeling horrible for how we'd treated her.

"Yeah, all right," Ron said. "She's in the common room now - working, for a change -"

We turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.

"I wrote them down!" Neville was saying tearfully. "But I must've dropped them somewhere!"

"A likely tale!" Sir Cadogan roared. Then, spotting Harry, Ron, and I: "Good even, my find young yeomen and lady! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!"

"Oh, shut up," Ron said as he, Harry, and I drew level with Neville.

"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told us miserably. "I made them tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!"

"Oddsbodikins," Harry said to Sir Cadogan as I tried to calm Neville down. The knight looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let us into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Harry and I were surrounded by people exclaiming over our Firebolts.

"Where'd you get them, Harry, Cheyenne?"

"Will one of you let me have a go?"

"Have either of you ridden them yet?"

"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they'll all on Cleansweep Sevens!"

"Can I just _hold_ one?"

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolts were passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry, Ron, and I had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn't rushed over to us, bent over her work and carefully avoiding our eyes. Harry, Ron, and I approached her table and at last, she looked up.

"We got them back," Harry said, grinning at her and holding up his Firebolt.

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with them!" Ron said.

"Well - there _might_ have been!" Hermione said. "I mean, at least you both know now that they're safe!"

"Yeah, we suppose so," I said softly. "We'd better put them upstairs -"

"I'll take yours, Harry!" Ron said eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase. I shook my head, amused and weent up the girls' staircase to put my Firebolt away. I went into the empty dormitory and carefully placed the Firebolt into my trunk, laying it gently on my Invisibility Cloak before rejoining Harry and Hermione back downstairs.

I had just rejoined them at the table in time to hear Harry ask Hermione how she was getting through all her subjects.

"Oh, well - you know - working hard," Hermione said. Close-up, I saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" I siad softly as Harry and I watched her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" Hermione said, looking scandalized.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," Harry said, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart that actually made me dizzy.

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" Hermione said earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's -"

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, neither Harry nor I found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder - and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

"Ron, what -"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry and I leaned closer, looking down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like -

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N - no," Hermione said, her voice trembling.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione, Harry, and I leaned closer. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.


	13. Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw**

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Harry and I couldn't see how they'd ever make up.

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshank's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.

Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers and he tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, but she lost her temper with him too.

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would! And I know you'll agree with whatever Harry says, won't you?" she said shrilly, glaring at me. "First the Firebolts, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it? Just leave me along, Harry, Cheyenne, I've got a lot of work to do!" Now that stung. I did have a mind of my own...

Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," Fred said bracingly. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly - one swallow - he probably didn't feel a thing."

_"Fred!"_ George and I said indignantly.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," George said.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry, Chey?"

"Yeah, that's true," Harry and I said.

"His finest hour," Fred said, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry and I persuaded him to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he could have a ride on Harry's Firebolt after we'd finished. This did seem to take Ron's mind off Scabbers for a moment ("Great! Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?") so we set off for the Quidditch field together.

Madam Hooch, who was still overseeing Gryffindor practices to keep an eye on Harry and myself, was just as impressed with the Firebolts as everyone else had been. She took Harry's in her hands before takeoff and gave us the benefit of her professional opinion.

"Look at the balance on it! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the tail end - you often find they develop a drag after a few years. They've updated the handle too, a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps, reminds me of the old Silver Arrows - a pity they've stopped making them. I learned to fly on one, and a very fine old broom it was too..."

She continued in this vein for some time, until Wood said, "Er - Madam Hooch? Is it okay if Harry has his Firebolt back? We need to practice..."

"Oh - right - here you are, then, Potter," Madam Hooch said. "I'll sit over here with Weasley..."

She and Ron left the field to sit in the stadium, and the Gryffindor team gathered around Wood for his final instructions for tomorrow's match.

"Harry, Cheyenne, I've just found out who Ravenclaw is playing as Seeker. It's Cho Chang. She's a fourth year, and she's pretty good...I really hoped she wouldn't be fit, she's had some problems with injuries..." Wood scowled his displeasure that Cho Chang had made a full recovery, then said, "On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which is going to look like a joke next to the Firebolts." He gave my and Harry's brooms a look of fervent admiration, then said, "Okay, everyone, let's go -"

And at long last, Harry and I mounted our Firebolts, and kicked off from the ground.

It was better than we'd ever dreamed. The Firebolts turned with the lightest touch; they seemed to obey our thoughts rather than our grips; they sped across the field at such speed that the stadium turned into a green-and-gray blur; Harry and I turned them so sharply that Alicia Spinnet screamed, then we went into a couple of perfectly controlled dives, brushing the grassy field with our toes before we rose thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again -

"Harry, Cheyenne, I'm letting the Snitch out!" Wood called.

Harry and I turned and raced a Bludger toward the goal posts; we outstripped it easily, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Wood, and within ten seconds Harry had caught it tightly in his hand.

The team cheered madly. Harry let the Snitch go again, gave it a minute's head start, then we tore after it, weaving in and out of the others; we spotted it lurking near Katie Bell's knee, looped her easily, and he caught it again.

It was the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the Firebolts in their midst, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time we hit the ground again, Wood didn't have a single criticism to make, which, as George pointed out, was a first.

"I can't see what's going to stop us tomorrow!" Wood said. "Not unless - Harry, Cheyenne, you've both sorted out your dementor problem, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Harry and I said, thinking of our feeble Patronuses and wishing they were stronger.

"The dementors won't turn up again, Oliver. Dumbledore'd go ballistic," Fred said confidently.

"Well, let's hope not," Wood said. "Anyway - good work, everyone. Let's get back to the tower...turn in early -"

"We're staying out for a bit; Ron wants a go on one of the Firebolts," Harry told Wood, and while the rest of the team headed off to the locker rooms, Harry and I strode over to Ron, who vaulted the barrier to the stands and came to meet us. Madam Hooch had fallen asleep in her seat.

"Here you go," Harry said, handing Ron his Firebolt.

Ron, an expression of ecstasy on his face, mounted the broom and zoomed off into the gathering darkness while Harry and I walked around the edge of the field, watching him. Night had fallen before Madam Hooch awoke with a start, told Harry, Ron, and I off for not waking her, and insisting that we go back to the castle.

Harry and I shouldered our Firebolts and we and Ron walked out of the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolts' superbly smooth action, its phenomenal acceleration, and its pinpoint turning. We were halfway toward the castle when Harry, glancing to his left, pointed out something that made his face pale and throw him arm out in front of me, pushing me behind him. I glanced around immediately, my heart flipping over as I saw it - a pair of eyes, gleaming out of the darkness.

Harry and I stopped dead, our hearts hammering against our ribs.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked.

Harry pointed it out to him. Ron pulled out his wand and muttered, _"Lumos!"_

A beam of light fell across the grass, hit the bottom of a tree, and illuminated its branches; there, crouching among the budding leaves, was Crookshanks.

"Get out of here!" Ron roared, and he stooped down and seized a stone lying on the grass, but before he could do anything else, Crookshanks had vanished with one swish of his long ginger tail.

"See?" Ron said furiously, chucking the stone down again. "She's still letting him wander about wherever he wants - probably washing down Scabbers with a couple of birds now..."

"He does deserve his freedom, too..." I whispered, patting Harry's shoulder gently and taking his hand. Harry didn't say anything, knowing he was feeling relieved at the knowledge that the eyes hadn't belonged to the Grim like he'd originally thought, as had I. We set off for the castle once more. Slightly ashamed of our moments of panic, neither Harry nor I said anything to Ron - nor did we look left or right until we had reached the well-lit entrance hall.

Harry and I went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolts deserved a sort of guard of honor. As Harry and I entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolts, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. We saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team was all looking thunderstruck.

"Did you see his face?" Ron said gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"

Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolts.

"Put them here, Harry, Cheyenne," he said, laying the brooms in the middle of the table and carefully turning them so that the names faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry and I on having acquired such a couple of superb replacement for our Nimbuses, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold one of the Firebolts.

"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" Percy said heartily as she examined the Firebolts closely. "Penelope and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"

Penelope put Harry's Firebolt down again, thanked Harry and I, and went back to her table.

"Harry, Cheyenne - make sure you win," Percy said, in an urgent whisper. _"I haven't got ten Galleons._ Yes, I'm coming, Penny!" And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

"Sure you can manage those brooms, Powter?" came a cold, drawling voice.

Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," Harry said casually.

"Got plenty of special features, haven't they?" Malfoy said, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame they don't come with parachutes - in case either of you get too near a dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy," I said. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you."

The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. We watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether my and Harry's brooms really were Firebolts.

At quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The whether couldn't have been more different from our match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, and Harry and I, though nervous, were starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. We could hear the rest of the school moving into the stadium beyond. Harry and I took off our black school robes, removed our wands from our pockets, and stuck them inside the T-shirts we were going to wear under our Quidditch robes. We only hoped we wouldn't need them. We wondered suddenly whether Professor Lupin was in the crowd, watching.

"You know what we've got to do," Wood said as we prepared to leave the locker rooms. "If we lose this match, we're out of the running. Just - just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!"

We walked out onto the field too tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, was already standing in the middle of the field. Their Seeker, Cho Chang, was the only girl on their team. She was shorter than Harry by about a head, and we couldn't help noticing, nervous as we were, that she was really pretty. She smiled at Harry and I as the teams faced each other behind their captains. and I could see a light blush touch his cheeks, making my eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Wood, Davies, shake hands," Madam Hooch said briskly, and Wood shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain.

"Mount your brooms...on my whistle...three - two - one -"

Harry and I kicked off into the air and the Firebolts zoomed higher and faster than any other brooms; we soared around the stadium and began squinting around for the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary, which was being provided by Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolts that Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power are flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship -"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" Professor McGonagall's voice cut in quickly.

"Right you are, Professor - just giving a bit of background information - the Firebolts, incidentally, have a built-in auto-brake and -"

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal..."

Harry and I streaked past Katie in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint of gold and noticing Cho Chang was tailing us closely. She was undoubtedly a very good flier - she kept cutting across one of us, forcing us to change direction.

"Show her your acceleration, Harry, Chey!" Fred yelled as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aiming for Alicia.

Harry and I urged the Firebolts forward as we rounded the Ravenclaw goal posts and Cho fell behind. Just as Katie succeeded in scoring the first goal of the match, and the Gryffindor end of the field went wild, we saw it - the Snitch was close to the ground, flittering near one of the barriers.

Harry and I dived; Cho saw what we were doing and tore after us - we were speeding up, excitement flooding us; dives were our specialty, we were ten feet away -

Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; I jerked sideways, shooting in Harry's way and he veered off course, avoiding it by an inch. I pinwheeled, avoiding it too and rejoined him. In those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished.

There was a great "Ooooooh" of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it.

"Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at those Firebolts go! Potter and Power're really putting them through their paces now, see them turn - Chang's comet is just no match for them, the Firebolts' precision-balance is really noticeable in these long -"

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead - if Cho got the Snitch before Harry, Ravenclaw would win. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser and I shot upward, shooting off in one direction, scanning the field frantically - a glint of gold, a flutter of tiny wings - the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal posts -

"Harry!" I yelled, shooting in that direction. He turned, seeming to notice too and shot after me. He accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead - but just then, Cho appeared out of thin air, blocking him -

"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision and I circled quickly around one of the posts, pausing just a few feet from our captain. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Harry turned and we caught sight of Cho; she was grinning. The Snitch had vanished again. Glancing at each other, Harry and I turned our Firebolts upward and were soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of our eye, we saw Cho following us...She'd decided to mark us rather than search for the Snitch herself...All right, then...if she wanted to tail us, she'd have to take the consequences...

We dived again, and Cho, thinking we'd seen the Snitch, tried to follow; Harry and I pulled out of the dives very sharply; she hurtled downward; we rose fast as a couple of bullets once more, and then saw it, for the third time - the Snitch was glittering way above the field at the Ravenclaw end.

We accelerated; so, many feet below, did Cho. We were winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second - then -

"Oh!" Cho screamed, pointing.

Distracted, Harry and I looked down.

Three dementors, three tall, black, hooded dementors, were looking up at us.

Neither of us stopped to think. Plunging our hands down the necks of our robes, we whipped out our wands and roared, _"Expecto patronum!"_

Something silvery-white, something enormous, erupted from the ends of our wands. We knew they had shot directly at the dementors but we didn't pause to watch; our minds still miraculously clear, we looked ahead - we were nearly there. Harry stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded. Harry and I turned around in midair and saw six scarlet blurs bearing down on us; next moment, the whole team was hugging us so hard we were nearly pulled off our brooms. Down below we could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

"That's my tag team!" Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie had all kissed Harry; Fred was hugging me tightly and I felt like I would pass out, out of bliss and lack of oxygen. In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the ground. Harry and I got off our brooms and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supports sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before we knew it, we had been engulfed by the cheering crowd.

"Yes!" Ron yelled, yanking Harry's arm into the air. "Yes! Yes!"

"Well _done,_ Harry, Cheyenne!" Percy said, looking delighted. "Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me -"

"Good for you two!" Seamus Finnigan roared.

"Ruddy brilliant!" Hagrid boomed over the heads of the milling Gryffindors.

"Those were quite some Patronuses," said a voice in my and Harry's ears.

Harry and I turned around to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased.

"The dementors didn't affect us at all!" Harry and I said excitedly. "We didn't feel a thing!"

"That would be because they - er - weren't dementors," Professor Lupin said. "Come and see -"

He led Harry and I out of the crowd until we were able to see the edge of the field.

"You both gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright," Lupin said.

We stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground was Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall.

"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker and Helper! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it was this. Ron, who had fought his way through to my and Harry's sides, doubled up with laughter as we watched Malfoy fighting to extricate himself from the robe, Goyle's head still stuck inside it.

"Come on, Harry, Chey!" George said, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"

"Right," Harry and I said, and feeling happier than we had in ages, we and the rest of the ream led the way, still in our scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle.

It felt as though we had already won the Quidditch Cup; the part went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" Angelina Johnson squealed as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

"With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Swiftfall," Fred muttered to Harry and I.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._ Harry and I broke away from the table where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her.

"Did you even come to the match?" we asked her.

"Of course I did," Hermione said in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you both did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry prompted softly as I glanced toward Ron, wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.

"I can't, Harry. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" Hermione said, now sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway..." She glanced at Ron too. "_He_ doesn't want me to join in."

There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been _eaten_, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them -"

"RON!" I growled as Hermione burst into tears. Before either Harry or I could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls' dormitory and out of sight.

"Can't you give her a break?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"No," Ron said flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry - but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."

"You need to grow up! You're acting like a five-year-old!" I snapped, not liking how he was treating Hermione. "What if you were in her situation, huh? Have some empathy!" Ron ignored me and rejoined the celebration. Harry tried to settle me down, but I pushed past him and ran after Hermione.

I remained with Hermione in the dormitory through the rest of the party, unwilling to go and enjoy it while she was emotionally hurt. The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that we all go to bed. One by one, the other girls in our dorm joined us, pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. I stayed with Hermione in her bed to comfort her and a couple of hours later, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder' Adjusting us so I was reclining in the bed fully, Hermione with her head still on my shoulder, I shut the hangings on her four-poster shut to block out a ray of moonlight and settled back, closing my eyes, but unwilling to fall asleep yet.

There was a sudden mew and I opened my eyes as the hangings twitched and I sat up, gently laying Hermione's head on her pillow before pulling the hangings back slightly to see what it was. Crookshanks's enormous yellow eyes greeted me as he sat on the bed next to Hermione's, the bed that I usually slept in. Climbing carefully out of the bed, I walked over and sat next to the large, ginger creature, petting him gently between the ears, "Hello Crookshanks, I haven't see you in a while. Been catching some new spiders?" I said softly with a smile. He purred, leaning into my hand and I sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could have your carefree life..." I whispered. Crookshanks mewed again, rubbing against my hand, his bush bottle tail flicking as he leapt onto my bedside table and seized the piece of parchment there, one I'd been using to try and find out who the Maruarder's could be that had written the map Harry and I now used. I'd had some ideas, but had wanted to get it on paper...make it easier to trace. With a soft tearing noise, the cat ripped one of the names from the rest.

"Hey! Crookshanks, what're -" But before I could stop him, the cat had leapt back onto the floor and run across the dorm toward the open doorway. I bolted after him, opening the door quietly and moving quickly down the staircase after the animal, wondering what in the world had gotten into him. As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed he had disappeared without a trace and paused, frowning deeply, until I noticed the lone piece of parchment left on the bottom step. I glanced around, wondering where that ginger tabby could have gotten to so quickly.

The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, still littered with the debris from the party. It was deserted.

"Crazy cat..." I muttered softly, shaking my head and stooping down to scoop up the abandoned parchment. I straightened out, peering curiously at the name Crookshanks had taken. "Padfoot...why would he take this...it's not really all that important..." I mussed, pursing my lips and frowning even more deeply, curious as to why Crookshanks had taken this name in particular. However, before I could think too much on this, a strangled cry sounded from the top of the staircase opposite the one I stood on, making me jump and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Before I could move a muscle, there was a flicker of movement and a large figure appeared, leaping off the last few stairs and pausing in the middle of the common room, fur on end and large black eyes flicking quickly about the deserted room. My heart leapt as I recognized it as the creature Harry and I thought was the Grim, but another seconds inspection proved it to just be a large, black dog. Feeling my gaze, it swung its head around, fixing me with its dark eyes and I froze, feeling the breath leave me, my hand clenching tightly around the paper in my palm.

"Padfoot?" I managed to squeak out, stepping off the last step and into the common room. He held my gaze with steady eyes and I thought I saw something spark in their depths, affection? He nodded his head slowly at me, giving, what I could only assume, a small smile. I stepped closer, but there was a bout of yelling from upstairs and I looked at the other staircase before turning to look at the dog again. But he had vanished and I only vaguely heard the sound of the portrait closing before Harry, Ron, and the rest of the boys in their dorm skid to a stop in the common room. I crossed quickly over to the boys, asking Harry what had happened. Apparently, Sirius Black had just been in the dormitory and had slashed Ron's curtains with a knife. I thought of who'd I'd just met and what had just happened with Ron. Could it be...?

By then, a few of the other girls had come down our staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" Fred asked brightly.

"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy said, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce - Sirius Black!" Ron said faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still.

"Nonsense!" Percy said, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron - had a nightmare -"

"I'm telling you -"

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy said, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to go back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare -"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron bellowed. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" Ron said, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw -"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" Sir Cadogan cried.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You - you _did_?" Professor McGonagall said. "But - but the password!"

"He had 'em!" Sir Cadogan said proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toe, raised his hand slowly into the air.


	14. Snape's Grudge

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Snape's Grudge**

No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. We knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell us that he had again escaped. And strangely...I was glad...

Throughout the day, everywhere we went we saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Harry and I couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred and George had been right in thinking that they - and now Harry, Ron, Hermione, and myself - were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.

"D'you reckon we should tell someone?" Harry asked Ron, making me drop my book.

"We know he's not coming in through Honeydukes," Ron said dismissively. "We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into."

I was immediately glad Ron took this view. If the one-eyed witch was boarded up too, Harry and I would never be able to go into Hogsmeade again. And, if Padfoot was indeed Sirius Black...I knew he would have a way of getting to that passage without resorting to breaking and entering.

Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to either Harry or I, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.

"...I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft...I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulling down...I rolled over...and I saw him standing over me...like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair...holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches...and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he _scampered._

"Why, though?" Ron added to Harry and I as the group of second-year girls who had been listening to his chilling tail departed. "Why did he run?"

Harry and I had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having gotten the wrong bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Harry? Black had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.

"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," Harry said thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole House to get back through the portrait hole...then he would've met the teachers..."

I still had yet to tell Harry of my encounter with Padfoot, who could possibly be Sirius Black, too, in an animagus form, and often, I wondered, why had he not killed me when he knew I'd seen him...? And what had been that spark I'd seen in his eyes...that spark of affection that a parent or guardian would have for their child...could he care? Could this all just be a misunderstanding...? I didn't know all these answers, but before I got my facts straight, I couldn't tell Harry who I'd seen or he'd become overprotective. This was something I had to find out by myself...without my best friend. It didn't feel right, but I had to stand on my own two feet and do this on my own for now and once I did, he would be the first to know. He would at least deserve that much.

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast - a Howler.

The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry, Ron, and I, sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once - Ron had got one from his mother the year before.

"Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.

Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. We heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall - Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

Harry and I were too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that we had a letter too. Hedwig got our attention by nipping us both sharply on the wrists.

"Ouch! Oh - thanks, Hedwig."

Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes. I leaned in to read over his shoulder.

_Dear Harry, Ron, and Cheyenne,_

_How about having tea with me this afternoon 'round six? I'll come and collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN._

_Cheers,_

_Hagrid._

He probably wants to hear all about Black!" Ron said.

So at six o'clock that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and I left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.

Hagrid was already waiting for us.

"All right, Hagrid!" Ron said. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"

"I've already heard all abou' it," Hagrid said, opening the front doors and leading us outside.

"Oh," Ron said, looking slightly put out.

The first thing we saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry and I saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.

"What are they for, Hagrid?" Harry asked, pointing them out.

"Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures," Hagrid said. "This Friday. Him an' me'll be goin' down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus..."

Shame washed through me. I'd completely forgotten that Buckbeak's trial was was so near, and judging by the uneasy looks on Ron and Harry's faces, they had too. We had also forgotten our promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense; the arrival of the Firebolts had driven it clean out of our minds.

Hagrid poured us tea and offered us a plate of Bath buns, but we knew better than to accept; we had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.

"I got somethin' ter discuss with you two," Hagrid said, sitting himself between us and looking uncharacteristically serious.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hermione," Hagrid answered.

"What about her?" Ron asked.

"She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolts, now yet not talkin' to her because her cat -"

" - at Scabbers!" Ron interjected angrily.

"Because her cat acted like all cats do," Hagrid continued doggedly. ("Thank you!" I injected, exasperatedly.) "She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind...She's found some really good stuff fer me...reckon he'll stand a good chance now..."

"Hagrid, we should've helped as well - sorry -" Harry began awkwardly.

"I'm not blamin' yeh!" Hagrid said, waving Harry's apology aside. "Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be gettin' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an' night - but I gotta tell yeh, I though you three'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. That's all."

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks and I lowered my gaze to my cup, wrapping my fingers lightly around the china.

"Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you three not talkin' to her -"

"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," Hagrid said wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.

We spent the rest of our visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked us back up to the castle.

A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when we returned to the common room.

"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" Ron said, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry and I as we went to sit down.

"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes..." Harry said, even more quietly.

"Harry! Cheyenne!" a voice suddenly said in our ears. Harry and I jumped and looked around at Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind us, clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding her.

"Harry, Cheyenne, if you two go into Hogsmeade again...I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!" Hermione said.

"Can either of you hear someone talking?" Ron growled, not looking at Hermione.

"Ron, how can you let them go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to _you_! I mean it, I'll tell -"

"So now you're trying to get Harry and Chey expelled!" Ron said furiously. "Haven't you done enough damage this year?"

"Not as much as we have!" I hissed, narrowing my eyes. Having a feeling Sirius Black wasn't intending to actually hurt Harry or myself.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto her lap, fixing me with his big yellow eyes. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face, gathered up the large cat, and hurried away toward the girls' dormitory.

"So how about it?" Ron said to Harry and I as though there had been no interruption. "Come on, last time we went neither of you saw anything. Neither of you have even been inside Zonko's yet!"

Harry and I looked around to check that Hermione was well out of earshot.

"Okay," we said. "But we're taking the Invisibility Cloaks this time."

On Saturday morning, Harry and I packed our Invisibility Cloaks in our bags, he slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at us, but we avoided her eye and were careful to let her see us walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as everybody else proceeded to the front doors.

" 'Bye!" Harry called to Ron. "See you when you get back!"

Ron grinned and winked.

Harry and I hurried up to the third floor, him slipping the Marauder's Map out of his pocket as we went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, we smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in our direction. Harry and I squinted at it. The minuscule writing next to it read _Neville Longbottom._

I quickly pulled out my wand, muttered, _"Dissendium!"_ and we shoved our bags into the statue, but before we could climb in ourselves, Neville came around the corner. I pretended to get a cramp and quickly lowered myself to the floor, messaging my leg and pulling Harry down beside me.

"Harry! Cheyenne! I forgot neither of you was going to Hogsmeade either!"

"Hi, Neville," Harry said, playing along with me and helping message my leg. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Neville shrugged. "Did Cheyenne get a cramp?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah - uh - sorry if we don't stay to talk Neville, but Chey and I were on our way to the library to do that vampire essay for Lupin -"

"I'll come with you!" Neville said brightly. "I haven't done it either!"

"Er - hang on - don't you remember Harry, I helped you finish it _last night?_"

"Oh, y-yeah, she did!"

"Great, you both can help me!" Neville said, his round face anxious. "I don't understand that thing about the garlic at all - do they have to eat it, or -"

He broke off with a small gasp, looking over my and Harry's shoulders.

It was Snape. Neville stepped quickly behind Harry, who pushed me behind him too.

"And what are you three doing here?" Snape said, coming to a halt and looking slowly at each of us. "An odd place to meet -"

To my and Harry's immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of us, and then to the one-eyed witch.

"We're not - meeting here," Harry said quickly. "We just - met here."

"Indeed?" Snape said. "You both have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, Power, and you are very rarely there for no good reason...I suggest the three of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where you belong."

Harry took my hand and we followed Neville without another word. As we turned the corner, Harry paused and looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch's head, examining it closely.

Harry and I managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password, then pretending he'd left his vampire essay and our books in the library, and doubling back. Once out of sight of the security trolls, he pulled out the map again and we held it close to our noses.

The third floor corridor seemed to be deserted. Harry and I scanned the map carefully and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labeled _Severus Snape_ was now back in its office.

We sprinted back to the one-eyed witch, opened her hump, heaved ourselves, one at a time, inside, and slid down to meet our bags at the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauder's Map blank again, then set off at a run.

Harry and I, completely hidden beneath our Invisibility Cloaks, emerged into the sunlight outside Honeydukes and prodded Ron in the back.

"It's us," we muttered.

"What kept you?" Ron hissed.

"Snape was hanging around..."

We set off up the High Street.

"Where are you two?" Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. "Are you both still there? This feels weird..."

We went to the post office; Ron pretended to be checking the price of an owl to Bill in Egypt so that Harry and I could have a good look around. The owls sat hooting softly down at us, at least three hundred of them; from Great Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls ("Local Deliveries Only"), which were so small they could have sat in the palm of Harry's hand.

Then we visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students Harry and I had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred and George's wildest dreams; Harry and I gave Ron whispered orders and passed him some gold from under the cloaks. We left Zonko's with our money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but our pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Sprawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.

The day was fine and breezy and none of us felt like staying indoors, so we walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.

"Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it," Ron said as we leaned on the fence, looking up at it. "I asked Nearly Headless Nick...he says he'd heard a very rough crowd lives there. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut..."

Feeling warm from our climb, I was just considering taking off the cloak for a few minutes when we heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing toward the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy had appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.

"...should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm...about how I couldn't use it for three months..."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself...'There's no 'arm in 'im, 'onest -'...that hippogriff's as good as dead -"

Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron. His pale face split in a malevolent grin.

"What are you doing, Weasley?"

Malfoy looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron.

"Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all asleep in one room - is that true?"

I saw Harry seize the back of Ron's robes to stop him from leaping on Malfoy.

I just barely heard Harry tell Ron to leave Malfoy to him and I smirked. This was a perfect opportunity, too perfect to miss. I watched silently, waiting for what was going to happen. From behind the three boys, I saw a large handful of mud come up from the path and had to bit my lip, hard, from laughing.

"We were just discussing your friend Hagrid," Malfoy said to Ron. "Just trying to imagine what he'd saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his hippogriff's -"

SPLAT!

Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silvery-blond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.

"What the -?"

I bit down hard on my lip to prevent myself from making a sound, feeling blood blossom over my tongue. Ron had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Malfoy trying to wipe his hair clean.

"What was that? Who did that?"

"Very haunted up here, isn't it?" Ron said, with the air of one commenting on the weather.

Crabbe and Goyle were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.

Farther down the path I saw an invisible hand scoop up a foul-smelling, green sludge from a particularly sloppy puddle.

SPLATTER!

Crabbe and Goyle caught some this time. Goyle hopped furiously on the spot, trying to rub it out of his small, dull eyes.

"It came from over there!" Malfoy said, wiping his face, and staring at a spot I was pretty sure was six feet to Harry's left.

Crabbe blundered forward, his long arms outstretched like a zombie. A stick just a few feet from him lifted from the ground and lobbed into Crabbe's back. He did a kind of pirouette in midair, trying to see who had thrown it. As Ron was the only person Crabbe could see, it was Ron he started toward, but then, something caught his foot. Crabbe stumbled - and his huge, flat foot caught, what assumed, was the hem of Harry's cloak. There was a great tug and the cloak slid sideways, revealing only his head.

For a split second, Malfoy stared at him.

"AAARGH!" he yelled, pointing at Harry's head. Then he turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Harry tugged the cloak up again, but the damage was done. Heart sinking, I hurried to where he was, almost colliding with him.

"Harry!" Ron said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Harry had disappeared, "you'd better run for it! If Malfoy tells anyone - you and Chey'd better get back to the castle, quick -"

"See you later," Harry said and I reached out quickly, grabbing what I thought to be his arm. I felt a hand land on my hand and grasp it tightly before I was tugged down the path. I tore after Harry back down the path toward Hogsmeade.

Would Malfoy believe what he had seen? Would anyone believe Malfoy? Nobody knew about the Invisibility Cloaks - nobody except Dumbledore. My stomach turned over - Dumbledore would know exactly what had happened, if Malfoy said anything -

Back into Honeydukes, back down the cellar steps, across the stone floor, through the trapdoor - Harry and I pulled off the cloaks, tucked them under our arms, and ran, flat out, along the passage...Malfoy would get back first...how long would it take him to find a teacher? Panting, sharp pains in our sides and chest, neither Harry nor I slowed down until we reached the stone slide. We would have to leave the cloaks where they were, it was too much of a giveaway in case Malfoy had tipped off a teacher - we hid them in a shadowy corner, then started out climb, one at a time, Harry first so he could warn me. I waited until he reached the inside of the witch's lump and light flowed from the opening. I could see Harry stick his head through. "Chey, it's clear." he whispered before he hoisted himself out and disappeared. I started to climb, reaching the lump and peeked out myself before hoisting myself out too, Harry griping my arms to help; the hump closed, and just as Harry and I jumped out from behind the statue, we heard quickly footsteps approaching.

It was Snape. He approached Harry and I at a swift walk, his black robes swishing, then stopped in front of us.

"So," he said.

There was a look of suppressed triumph about him. Harry and I tried to look innocent, all too aware of our sweaty faces and his muddy hands, which he quickly hid in his pockets.

"Come with me, Potter, Power," Snape said.

Harry and I followed him downstairs, him trying to wipe his hands clean on the inside of his robes without Snape noticing. We walked down the stairs to the dungeons and then into Snape's office.

We had been in here only once before, and we had been in very serious trouble then too. Snape had acquired a few more slimy horrible things in jars since last time, all standing on shelves behind his desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.

"Sit," Snape said.

Harry and I sat. Snape, however, remained standing.

"Mr. Malfoy has just been to see with a strange story, Potter," Snape said, addressing Harry.

Neither Harry or I said anything.

"He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley - apparently alone."

Still, neither of us spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?"

Harry and I both tried to look mildly surprised.

"I don't know, Professor."

Snape's eyes were boring into Harry's before he turned his attention to me in much the same fashion. It was exactly like trying to stare down a hippogriff. I tried hard not to blink.

"Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter, Power?"

"No," Harry and I said, now trying to sound innocently curious.

"It was _your_ head, Potter. Floating in midair."

There was a long silence.

"Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. "If he's seeing things like -"

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Snape asked softly. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade, much as Power's."

"I know that," Harry said and I could see he was striving to keep his face free of guilt or fear. "It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin -"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," Snape snarled, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Harry's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. "If _your_ head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you." he glared at me. "And if you were there, Power was somewhere nearby. You two are never too far apart."

"Professor, we've been up in Gryffindor Tower," I said quickly. "Like you told -"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

A lump formed in my throat. Snape's thin mouth curled into a horrible smile.

"So," he said, straightening up again. "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep the famous P-team safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power are a law unto themselves. Let the ordinary people worry about their safety! Famous Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power go where they want to, with no thought for the consequences."

Harry and I remained silent. Snape was trying to provoke us into telling the truth. We weren't going to do it. Snape had no proof - yet.

"How extraordinarily like your fathers you are, Powter," Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. "They too were exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made them think they were a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with their friends and admirers...The resemblance between you all is uncanny."

"Our dads didn't _strut_," Harry and I said, before we could stop ourselves. "And neither do we."

"Your fathers didn't set much store by rules either," Snape went on, pressing his advantage, his thin face full of malice. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. Their heads were so swollen -"

"SHUT UP!"

Harry was suddenly on his feet. I could see rage working its way through him, similar to the rage we'd both felt on our last night in Privet Drive. Snape's face had gone rigid, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

_"What did you say to me, Potter?"_

"I told you to shut up about our dads!" Harry yelled. "We know the truth, all right? They saved your life! Dumbledore told us! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for our dads!"

Snape's sallow skin had gone the color of sour milk.

"And did the headmaster tell either of you the circumstances in which your fathers saved my life?" he whispered. "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Powter's delicate ears?"

I watched Harry bit his lip. Neither of us knew what had happened and didn't want to admit it - but Snape seemed to have guessed the truth.

"I would hate for you two to run away with a false idea of your fathers, Powter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have either of you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you - your saintly fathers and their friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your fathers hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what they did. They were saving their own skins as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, they would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

"Turn out your pockets, Powter!" he spat suddenly.

Neither Harry nor I moved. There was a pounding in my ears.

"Turn out both your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Powter!"

Cold with dread, we slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and the Marauder's Map.

Snape picked up Harry's Zonko's bag.

"Ron gave them to us," Harry said and I prayed we'd get a chance to tip Ron off before Snape saw him. "He - brought them back from Hogsmeade last time -"

"Indeed? And you've both been carrying them around ever since? How very touching...and what is this?"

Snape had picked up the map. Harry and I tried with all our might to keep our faces impassive.

"Spare bit of parchment," he said with a shrug.

Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry and I.

"Surely neither of you need such a very _old_ piece of parchment?" he said. "Why don't I just - throw this away?"

His hand moved toward the fire.

"No!" I yelped, leaping to my feet.

"So!" Snape said, his long nostrils quivering. "Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Os is it - something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or - instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?"

Harry and I blinked. Snape's eyes gleamed.

"Let me see, let me see...," he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secret!" he said, touching the wand to the parchment.

Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. I gently touched his hand.

"Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply.

It stayed blank. Harry was taking deep, calming breaths.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand was writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

_"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."_

Snape froze. Harry and I stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.

_"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."_

It would have been very funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more...

_"Mr. Swiftfall would like to express his thoughts that Professor Snape's abilities is limited to little more than curing the acne off a teenager's face."_

I bit my lip, trying extremely hard not to laugh.

_"Mr. Padfoot agrees with Mr. Swiftfall and would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."_

My hand gently curled around Harry's wrist, shaking visibly, just waiting for what the last Marauder would say.

_"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."_

Harry and I waited for the blow to fall.

"So...," Snape said softly. "We'll see about this..."

He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.

"Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!"

Utterly bewildered, Harry and I stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.

"You called, Severus?" Lupin said mildly.

"I certainly did," Lupin said, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Potter and Power to empty their pockets. Potter was carrying this."

Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Swiftfall were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face.

"Well?" Snape said.

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry and I had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.

_"Well?"_ Snape said again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter and Power got such a thing?"

Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in my and Harry's direction, warned us not to interrupt.

"Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry and Cheyenne got it from a joke shop -"

"Indeed?" Snape said. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke ship could supply either of them with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that they got it _directly_ _from the manufacturers_?"

Neither Harry nor I understood what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin.

"You mean, by Wormtail or one of these people?" he said. "Harry, Cheyenne, do either of you know any of these men?"

"No," Harry and I said quickly.

"You see, Severus?" Lupin said, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko product to me -"

Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

"I - gave - Harry - and - Chey - that - stuff," he choked. "Bought - it...in Zonko's...ages - ago..."

"Well!" Lupin said, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Ron, Cheyenne, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay - excuse us, Severus -"

Neither Harry nor I dared look at Snape as we left his office. He took my hand and we and Ron followed Lupin all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin.

"Professor, I -"

"I don't want to hear explanations," Lupin said shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Harry, Ron, and I looked amazed. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, _astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let either of you have it back, Harry, Cheyenne."

Harry and I had expected that, and weren't too keen for explanations to protest.

"Why did Snape think we'd got it from the manufacturers?"

"Because...," Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you both out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you _know_ them?" I asked, impressed.

"We've met," he said shortly. He was looking at Harry and I more seriously than ever before, his gaze especially fixed on me.

"Don't expect me to cover up for either of you again, Harry, Cheyenne. I cannot make either of you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you both have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Both your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry, Cheyenne. A poor way to repay them - gambling their sacrifice for a couple of bags of magic tricks."

He walked away, leaving Harry and I feeling worse by far then we had at any point in Snape's office. Slowly, we and Ron mounted the marble staircase. As we passed the one-eyed witch, Harry said something about the Invisibility Cloaks - they were still down there, but we didn't dare go and get them.

"It's my fault," Ron said abruptly. "I persuaded you both to go. Lupin's right, it was stupid, we shouldn't've done it -"

He broke off; we reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Hermione was walking toward us. One look at her face convinced Harry and I that she had heard what had happened. My heart plummeted - had she told Professor McGonagall?

"Come to have a good gloat?" Ron asked savagely as she stopped in front of us. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"No," Hermione said. She was holding a letter in her hands and her lip was trembling. "I just thought you ought to know...Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."


	15. The Quidditch Final

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Quidditch Final**

"He - he sent me this," Hermione said, holding out the letter.

Harry took it and I leaned in quickly to read over his shoulder. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts._

_Execution date to be fixed._

_Beaky has enjoyed London._

_I won't forget all the help you gave us._

_Hagrid_

"They can't do this," Harry said. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."

"Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it," Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope...Nothing will have changed."

"Yeah it will," Ron said fiercely. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione flung her arms around Ron's neck and broke down completely. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. Finally, Hermione drew away.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers...," she sobbed.

"Oh - well - he was old," Ron said, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."

The safety measure imposed on the students since Black's second break-in made it impossible for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. Our only chance of talking to him was during Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

He seemed numb with shock at the verdict.

"S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em..."

"There's still the appeal!" Ron said fiercely. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"

We were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead we could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle, and kept looking back, laughing derisively.

"S'no good, Ron," Hagrid said sadly as we reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that..."

Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief.

"Look at him blubber!"

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" Malfoy said. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione and I got there first - SMACK!

She and I had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength we could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.

"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul - you evil -"

"Hermione!" Ron said weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back. Harry wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and pulled me back as I looked ready to lunge.

"Get off, Ron!"

Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.

"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.

"Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.

"Harry, Chey, you'd both better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione said shrilly. "You'd just better, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"

"We're due in Charms," Ron said, still goggling at Hermione. "We'd better go."

We hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"You're late!" Professor Flitwick said reprovingly as Harry opened the classroom door. "Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs - well, this _is_ a group of three. Cheyenne, why don't _you_ pair up with Neville?"

Harry, Ron, and I hurried to a desk at the back and opened our bags. Ron looked behind him.

"Where's Hermione gone?"

Harry and I looked around too. Hermione hadn't entered the classroom, yet we knew she had been right next to him when he'd opened the door.

"That's weird," I mumbled as Harry stared at Ron. "Maybe - maybe she went to the bathroom or something?"

But Hermione didn't turn up all lesson.

"She could've done with a Cheering Charm on her too," Ron said as the class left for lunch, all grinning broadly - the Cheering Charms had left us with a feeling of great contentment.

Hermione wasn't at lunch either. By the time we'd finished our apple pie, the after-effects of the Cheering Charms was wearing off, and Harry, Ron, and I had started to get slightly worried.

"You don't think Malfoy did something to her?" Ron said anxiously as we hurried upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower.

We passed the security trolls, gave the Fat Lady the password ("Flibbertigibbit"), and scrambled through the portrait hole into the common room.

Hermione was sitting at a table, fast asleep, her head resting on an open Arithmancy book. We went to sit down on either side of her. I gently shook her awake.

"Wh-what?" Hermione said, waking with a start and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go? W-which lesson have we got now?"

"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," I said softly. "Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms!"

"But how could you forget?" Harry said. "You were with us until we were right outside the classroom!"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione wailed. "Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!"

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron said, looking down at the enormous Arithmancy book Hermione had been using as a pillow. "I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much."

"No, I'm not!" Hermione said, brushing her hair out of her eyes and staring hopelessly around for her bag. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry...I'll see you in Divination!" And she dashed out of the common room and through the portrait hole like she was on fire. Harry, Ron, and I stared after her.

"If Hermione doesn't cut herself some slack then there'll be a spot for her in the mental ward before your Quidditch final." Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry and I were just nodding in agreement when there was a loud bout of purring and a large ginger furball leapt onto the table and rested on the Charms book Hermione had left behind, a pair of bulbous yellow eyes fixed on me. Ron eyed the ginger creature as I reached up and scratched the cat between the ears.

"Hello, Crookshanks," I said, smiling. He purred, leaning into my hand. Harry leaned closer, squinting his eyes.

"I think he's carrying something," he said, reaching over to take whatever it was the cat was carrying. Crookshanks, however, hissed softly and leapt lightly onto my lap, curling up there and lifted his squashed face to look at me. I suddenly noticed the letter dangling from his mouth and gently took it. Crookshanks allowed me to take the envelope before he leapt onto the floor and disappeared once more. The boys watched with wide eyes, looking between me and where the cat had disappeared.

"That was odd. Who would send a letter via cat?" Ron said as I flipped the letter over. On the back, my name was spelled out in a light scrawl. Cutting across the top with a fingernail, I pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it.

_Dear Cheyenne,_

_I apologize for the scare I may have caused you on Saturday night, but I can assure you I had no intention of harming you or any of your House mates. I understand I need to better explain this situation and ask that you allow me that chance._

_Let's meet the Friday night following your Easter holidays, say, around midnight. Crookshanks will lead you out of the castle and down near the Forbidden Forest to meet me._

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Padfoot._

I sat, frozen, reading and re-reading the letter to be sure I hadn't missed anything. He wanted to meet me, face to face. Padfoot aka Sirius Black...our godfather, the man who could very well have been framed for the deaths of my and Harry's parents. I could find out what happened, why he didn't kill any of us...what really happened that led to our parents deaths.

"Chey?" Harry's voice broke through my thoughts and I blinked, looking up at the boys, who were watching me with slightly worried expressions. "Who's the letter from?" Quickly pushing my thoughts aside, I refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. "No one. It was a prank." I said. Ron looked at me suspiciously.

"Let me see that letter," he demanded. I glared and shoved the letter into my bag and zipping it closed once more. "No! It's a letter meant for me. A _private_ letter that I would appreciate you not read!" I growled. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Are you feeling all right, Chey?"

"Of course, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be fine? That prank really lifted my spirits since the Cheering Charm wore off." I said, racking my brain for a change in topic.

Ron grinned, "Was it Fred?"

My face immediately burned red. "No, no, w-why would you ask such a thing? This had nothing to do with Fred! Now quit questioning me!"

Harry suddenly looked both scared and worried, "You're acting kinda moody, Chey..." his face reddened significantly. "That...um - th-that stuff we learned at Muggle School, during health class...you're - um, d-do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Mortification washed through me then, followed by anger and embarrassment. Ron had paled under his freckles. I couldn't _believe_ that Harry had the nerve to bring something like that up, and, while I was touched by his concern, I was furious that he'd mentioned it in front of Ron, and just because I was acting a little out of the ordinary. This topic was a very _private_ matter that shouldn't be discussed so freely in front of _anyone_ but trusted adults and close **girl** friends. They were boys, they shouldn't be hearing it and it shouldn't be discussed with them. They wouldn't be able to _understand_. I must have looked really angry because Harry and Ron actually moved away from me, looking scared.

"Th-that topic is not up fo-for any, and I mean, ANY sort of discussion. An-and, jus-just because I was acting a little strange, do-does not mean it-it was because of that! And I would appreciate it not being brought up again. N-now, let's...let's go to Divination before we're late..." I snatched up my bag and stormed out of the portrait hole toward the North Tower. After a moment's pause, I heard hurried footsteps behind me as the boys caught up and walked silently behind me as we made our way to our next class.

Five minutes later, we were joined by Hermione at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom. She was looking extremely harassed.

"I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams, Professor Flitwick hinted they might!"

Together we climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat down together at the same rickety table.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking near by.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry muttered back. "Chey and I were getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at either of our hands."

"Good day to you!" the familiar, misty voice said, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," Professor Trelawney said, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted.

"Well, honestly...'the fates have informed her'...who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry, Ron, and I choked back laughs.

It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them, as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes" - Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise - "so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class."

And so we began. I felt extremely foolish just staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep my mind empty when thoughts of my meeting with Sirius and our Quidditch final kept sneaking its way in. It didn't help that Ron kept breaking into silent giggles and Hermione kept tutting.

"Seen anything yet?" Harry asked after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," Ron said, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"This is such a waste of time," Hermione hissed. "I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms -"

Professor Trelawney rustled past.

"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured over the clinking of her bangles.

"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."

Harry, Hermione, and I burst out laughing.

"Now, really!" Professor Trelawney said as everyone's head turned in our direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached our table and peered into our crystal ball. I felt my heart sink unpleasantly. I was sure I knew what was coming -

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving...but what is it?"

Harry and I were prepared to bet everything we owned, including our Firebolts, that it wasn't good news, whatever it was. And sure enough -

"My dears..." Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry and I. "It is here, plainer than ever before...my dears, stalking toward you both, growing ever closer...the Gr -"

"Oh, for _goodness' _sake!" Hermione said loudly. "Not that ridiculous Grim _again_!"

Professor Trelawey raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my _dear_, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

There was a moment's silence. Then -

"Fine!" Hermione said suddenly, getting up and cramming _Unfogging the Future_ back into her bag. "Fine!" she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Professor Trelawney seemed to have forgotten all about the Grim. She turned abruptly from Harry, Ron, and my table, breathing rather heavily as she tugged her gauzy shawl more closely to her.

"Ooooo!" Lavender said suddenly, making everyone start. "Oooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? _'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!'_ You said it _ages_ ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy smile.

"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs...The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know..."

Lavender and Parvati looked deeply impressed, and moved over so that Professor Trelawney could join their table instead.

"Some day Hermione's having, eh?" Ron muttered to Harry and I, looking awed.

"Yeah..."

Harry and I glanced into the crystal ball but saw nothing but swirling white mist. I knew Professor Trelawney couldn't have see the Grim again since I knew it wasn't the Grim, not anymore. She had to have seen Sirius and it made me think perhaps she'd seen our future meeting. I guess not all Professor Trelawney's were as ridiculous as we'd first thought and, for once, I was glad she seen the 'Grim., however wrong it was.

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. Us third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Call this a holiday?" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like_ The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology _and _Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality._ He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

Harry and I, meanwhile, had to fit in our homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded the team) that we needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry and myself, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you must catch it _only_ if we're _more than_ fifty points up," Wood told Harry constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? Do you understand as well, Cheyenne? Let Harry catch the Snitch only if we're -"

"WE KNOW, OLIVER!" Harry and I yelled.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron's second oldest brother) had been Seeker. But Harry and I doubted whether any of them, even Wood, wanted to win as much as we did. The enmity between Harry, Malfoy, and I was at its highest point ever. Malfoy was still smarting about the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade and was even more furious that Harry and I had somehow wormed our way out of punishment. Neither of us had forgotten Malfoy's attempt to sabotage us in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Buckbeak that made us more determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry and I were having a particularly bad time of it. Neither of us could walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip us up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever we went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw us surrounded by people. Wood had given instructions that both Harry and I should be accompanied everywhere we went, in case the Slytherins tried to put us out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry and I to get to classes on time because we were surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. Harry and I were more concerned for our Firebolts' safety than our own. When we weren't flying them, we locked them securely in our trunks and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break time to check that they were still there. And, like his concern for his Firebolt, Harry seemed to become even more protective of me in the days leading up to the match. I could only get privacy when I went to the bathroom and at night for bed. At times, I just couldn't wait for the match to get here. The tension was sometimes too much.

All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books.

"I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said nervously.

There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred and George's jokes and I sat with Ron and Hermione removed from the center of things, trying not to think about the next day, because every time we did, we had the horrible sensation that something very large was fighting to get out of our stomachs. I'd moved to sit with harry in his chair and sat, curled up in his lap, just feeling one of those uneasy times when I just needed to be near him.

"You're both going to be fine," Hermione told us, though she looked positively terrified.

"You've both got _Firebolts_!" Ron said.

"Yeah...," Harry said as I closed my eyes, my stomach writhing.

It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

I didn't sleep well. First, I dreamed I'd overslept and left Harry to be covered by Neville. Wood kept yelling at me and blaming me for everything. Then, I dreamed that Malfoy and the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding dragons. Harry and I were flying at breakneck speed, trying to avoid a spurt of flames from Malfoy's steed's mouth, when I realized we'd forgotten our Firebolts. We fell through the air and I jerked sharply awake.

It was a few seconds before I remembered that the match hadn't taken place yet, that I was safe in bed, and that the Slytherin team definitely wouldn't be allowed to play on dragons. Sighing, I slumped farther into my pillow and tried to fall back to sleep. As I was just about to drift off to dreamland once more, there was a soft meow and I could feel the bed shift as something leapt up and then crawled onto my chest. A large warm body lay on my chest and I opened my eyes, which connected immediately with a couple of bulbous yellow orbs. Blinking quickly, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up slightly, holding myself up on one of my elbows. I reached over, grabbed my glasses and pulled them on before turning to look at what was laying on me.

It was Crookshanks.

My meeting with Sirius came flooding back. I'd completely forgotten about it around the excitement and tension building up for the Quidditch match the next morning. I groaned softly, running a hand quickly through my hair to clear my gaze. Crookshanks meowed again, pawing at my hand and I could almost hear him saying that we needed to leave to meet Sirius.

"All right, Crookshanks, I know. I'm getting up." I said, petting him between the ears. The ginger tom meowed once more and climbed off my chest, leaping back onto the floor. I threw the covers off and pushed the hangings surrounding my bed open. Grabbing my sneakers and socks, I quickly pulled them on and tied the laces. Pushing myself up, I pulled the hangings closed around my bed to hide it from view, and pulled on my black cloak. "All right, Crookshanks, let's go." I whispered.

It was a quiet journey down to the common room, through the portrait hole and through the darkened castle. Crookshanks seemed to know the safety route to the oak front doors. We paused momentarily at the one-eyed witch to get my and Harry's Invisibility Cloaks, and before long, I was following him over the moon bleached grounds toward the darkened trees. We stopped beneath a tall oak and I slid my Invisibility Cloak off and sat on the roots to wait, looking over the grounds silently. The ground were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops of the forest behind us; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect.

Something suddenly caught Crookshanks and the cat dashed off across the lawn. I looked around, shivering uncomfortably and wrapping my cloak tighter around my person, waiting and watching to see what was going to happen. Then, I saw it: the familiar gigantic, shaggy black dog, moving stealthily across the lawn in my direction. Crookshanks trotted at his side. They paused, then he motioned to the forest and started toward there. Standing slowly, I followed him past the first line of trees until we were hidden by shadow, a slim beam of moonlight reaching us from a small break in the leaves overhead. I sat on a smooth patch of ground, Crookshanks curling up in my lap. I could just make out the outline of the dog and watched as he lengthened into a humanoid form before settling himself in front of me in the grass. A stray beam of moonlight slid across his face, revealing his soft smile and kind dark eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Cheyenne."

I remained out in the forest with Sirius and Crookshanks until a half hour prior to dawn. During the hours I stayed out with my godfather, I learned everything that had occurred those twelve years ago that led up to Voldemort's attack on my and Harry's parents and our home, who had really betrayed our parents and how Sirius how gotten mixed up in this. Sirius told me why he'd come and Crookshanks involvement in this whole situation, which made me better understand his past dealings and behavior. Sirius even shared memories from his past with my and Harry's fathers and their small gang, learning the last two who made up their gang and how their adventures had first started, including what led to the boys becoming unregistered animagus. By the time I'd decided to return to the castle, my head was swimming with the new information, but my heart was feeling lighter than before the meeting and I was better willing to help prove Sirius was innocent.

We were still talking as he walked me up to the front doors, hidden safely under my Invisibility Cloak. He joked happily as he remembered causing all sorts of trouble with this cloak and shared a few more memories with me before we'd managed to reach the front doors leading into the entrance hall. We stopped next to the doors to talk another moment.

"Um, Sirius...I'm sorry I thought you killed my parents...but, I'm grateful you helped clear things up. I just hope we'll be able to prove you innocence." I said softly, looking up at him, feeling a few tears escape the corners of my eyes. He smiled kindly and gently wiped a stray tear from my cheek and, suddenly, I felt the touch of a caring father figure instead of the harsh slap often collected from the man I'd lived under for the past twelve years. More tears escaped my eyes and I hugged him, finally feeling the parental acceptance Harry and I had been denied all these years. Sirius seemed taken aback, but he hugged me back.

"It's all right, Cheyenne, it'll be all right. You didn't know, but now you do. I'm grateful you at least trusted me enough to come and hear my story, thank you. But now, you can help prove my innocence." I nodded, "I promise I'll do what I can to help you. But," I pulled away, looking up at his sunken face, "Can...can I tell Harry? I'm sure if I explain it he'll understand and be willing to help. Please?"

Sirius chuckled, "You're loyal to your friends just like Mark was. I can see a lot of him in you. And I can understand, he is your best friend, so I think he should know. Just be careful, all right? I don't want you to get in trouble for my sake." I nodded again. "All right, Sirius. Thank you." I hugged him again and pulled away. Sirius hesitated for a moment, "I'll be watching the match and cheering you and Harry on. I know you both can win that cup." I was surprised by that, but smiled once more, "Thanks, Sirius." I said once more. He nodded his head and transformed back into the gigantic, shaggy black dog once more before bounding off toward the Whomping Willow. I watched him for a few minutes before turning and making my way back into the castle, Crookshanks following close behind me. I was going to make sure that Sirius was proven innocent.

Getting back to my dormitory was as easy as it had been to leave it to meet Sirius and I was lucky enough to get about another hours sleep before Hermione shook me awake and told me to get ready. I got eagerly out of bed, excited and nervous about the match. Dressing in my robes and gingerly lifting my Firebolt from my trunk, I carried it with me to the common room, where Harry and the rest of the team waited.

The team went down to breakfast silently, Wood still mumbling silently to himself. I separated Harry from the rest of the team, "Harry, I need to tell you something." I whispered. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it, Chey?"

I opened my mouth to tell him, but at that time we had walked into the Great Hall, and were greeted by enormous applause. Neither of us could help but grin broadly as we saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding us too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as we passed. Harry and I noticed Malfoy looking paler than usual.

Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging the team to eat while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried us off to the field before anyone else had finished, so we could get an idea of the conditions. As we left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Harry, Cheyenne!" Cho called. I saw Harry blush and smirked at him, but he playfully shoved my shoulder and I giggled, the things I wanted to tell him about Sirius being chased out of my mind as we marched out the front doors and toward the Quidditch field.

"Okay - no wind to speak of - sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for that - ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff -"

Wood paced the field, staring around with the rest of us behind him. Finally, we saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilled onto the lawn.

"Locker rooms," Wood said tersely.

None of us spoke as we changed into our scarlet robes. I wonder if we they were feeling like Harry and I were: as though we'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go -"

We walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP!" Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silvery serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" Lee Jordan yelled, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Power, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years -"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of "boos" from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill -"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Harry and I, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch said.

Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.

"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch said. "Three...two...one..."

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fifteen brooms rose into the air. I felt my bangs fly back off my forehead; my nerves left me in the thrill of the flight; I glanced at Harry quickly and he nodded toward Malfoy, who was on his tail. We turned and sped off in search of the Snitch.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no - Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field - WHAM! - nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by - Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on Angelina - nice swerve around Montague - _duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!_ - SHE SCORES! TEN - ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight -

"OUCH!"

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

"Sorry!" Flint said as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, Fred chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

"That will do!" Madam Hooch shrieked, zooming between them. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" Fred howled, but madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Alicia!" Lee yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry and I turned the Firebolts sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty, Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

" 'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass - very difficult indeed - YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Relieved, Harry and I zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making sure we caught every word of Lee's commentary. It was essential that we hold Malfoy off the Snitch until Gryffindor was more than fifty points up -"

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession - no! - Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field - THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cartwheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING -"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way -!"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

I felt a surge of excitement flood me. I'd just seen the Snitch the same second Harry had - it was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts - but Harry mustn't catch it yet - and if Malfoy saw it -

Glancing quickly at each other, Harry made a small motion with his hand and I nodded. Zooming several yards from him, I put on an air of ignorance and gazed around before I let a wide smile turn up the corner of my lips. I waved to Harry, "Harry, there -" I pointed toward the Slytherin end of the field, past one of the goal posts. He turned his head and nodded. I watched as he shot off in that direction and a second later, Malfoy followed, clearing thinking we'd seen the Snitch. I shot after the Slytherin, gaining on him, I was past him and I suddenly shot sideways, in his path. Malfoy jerked his broomstick backward and glared after me. I smirked a him.

A sudden sickening crunch drew my attention. Bole and Derrick, the Slytherin Beaters, had collided in midair and a loud laugh escaped me as I saw Harry floating over them.

"Ha haaa!" Lee Jordan yelled as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle - Flint alongside her - poke him in the eye, Angelina! - it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke - oh no, Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save -!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor, in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession -"

It was turning into the dirtiest game Harry and I had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

The Snitch had disappeared again. Malfoy was still keeping close to Harry and I as we soared over the match, looking around for it - once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead -

Katie scored. Fifty-ten, Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal - seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse - Gryffindor was sixty-points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was ours. Harry and I could almost feel hundreds of eyes following us as we soared around the field, high above the rest of the game, with Malfoy speeding along behind us.

And then we saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above us.

Harry put on a huge burst of speed and flew off after it. However, Malfoy had snuck up on him and I could see him suddenly reach out, reaching for Harry's broom. "OI! Malfoy!" I yelled as I sped after him, diving quickly and then shooting back up toward him, leaning close to my broom. However, Malfoy had succeeded in slowing Harry down and I could see Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch and it disappeared. I growled and shot up at him, knocking into Malfoy as I shot past. I jerked my broom around, glaring at the blond boy.

Malfoy cartwheeled backwards, clinging to his broom as he tried to steady it. He was panting with the effort of holding onto Harry's Firebolt, but his eyes were still sparkling maliciously.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy had straightened himself out once more.

"But miss, Power attacked me!" Malfoy said, turning grey eyes on Madam Hooch, frowning deeply at her.

"I will allow it! That is the Helper's job, to help her Seeker!" Madam Hooch snap and I gave a sigh of relief. Harry smirked at Malfoy.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU'RE LUCKY POWER GOT YOU BACK YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B -"

Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal - Montague scores -" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..."

Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. I knew he wasn't going to let Malfoy anywhere near the Snitch...

"Get out of it, Potter!" Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Harry blocking him. I smirked.

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"

Harry and I looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper - they were all going to block her -

I watched as Harry wheeled the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear. However, I didn't get to see the outcome as I suddenly noticed Malfoy turning his broomstick and diving toward the ground. My heart sank as quickly as Malfoy was diving; there, just a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, golden glimmer -

"HARRRRRRY!" I screamed as I dived quickly after Malfoy. I drew level with him and started shoving him with an elbow and bashing my body against his. He shoved back, keeping eyes forward, fixed on the Snitch. I turned my broom sideways, hitting it against his. Pain flashed through my cheek and my glasses flew off just as I flipped off my broom and skid back on the grass. There was a collective gasp.

"YES!"

Harry's blurred figure suddenly pulled out of the dive from next to Malfoy, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. I pushed my glasses on and watched as Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in my ears. I could just make out the tiny golden ball held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

"YES! WE WON!" I yelled, jumping up and down excitedly as Wood sped toward Harry, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrained into his shoulder. Fred and George both thumped his shoulder. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were shouting, _"We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!"_ Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the rest of the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth. I ran toward them and Fred detached himself in time to capture me in a hug.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters were pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands rained down on our backs. I had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on me. Then I, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into the light, we saw Hagrid, plastered with crimson rosettes - "Yeh beat 'em, Harry, Chey, yeh beat 'em! Wait till I tell Buckbeak!" There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and there, fighting their way toward Harry and I, was Ron and Hermione. Words failed them. They simply beamed as Harry and I were borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

If only there had been a dementor around...As a sobbing Wood passed Harry and I the Cup, as we lifted it into the air, we felt we could have produced the world's best Patronuses.


	16. Professor Trelawney's Prediction

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Professor Trelawney's Prediction**

My and Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But we couldn't. Exams were nearly upon us, and instead of lazing around outside, us students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully our brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George had been spotted working; they were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione.

Harry and Ron had given up asking her how she was managing to attend several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when we saw the exam schedule she had drawn up for herself. The first column read:

_Monday_

_9 o'clock, Arithmancy_

_9 o'clock, Transfiguration_

_Lunch_

_1 o'clock, Charms_

_1 o'clock, Ancient Runes_

"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er - are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" Hermione snapped, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have.

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" Harry asked. "I wouldn't." I said.

"No," Hermione said shortly. "have any of you seen my copy of _Numerology and Grammatica_?"

"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," Ron said, but very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment around on her table, looking for the book. Just then, there was a rustle at the window and Elon fluttered through it, a note clutched tight in his beak.

"It's from Hagrid," Harry said, ripping the note open as I pet the owl. "Buckbeak's appeal - it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," I said as Hermione continued looking everywhere for her Arithmancy book.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Harry said, still reading from the letter. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and - and an executioner."

Hermione looked up, startled.

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," Harry said slowly.

"They can't!" Ron howled. "I've spent _ages_ reading up on stuff for him; they can't just ignore it all.

Harry and I glanced at each other, having a horrible feeling that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had had its mind made up for it by Mr. Malfoy. Draco, who had been noticeably subdued since Gryffindor's triumph in the Quidditch final, seemed to regain some of his old swagger over the next few days. From sneering comments Harry and I overheard, Malfoy was certain Buckbeak was going to be killed, and seemed thoroughly pleased with himself for bringing it about. I knew I was the only thing keeping Harry from imitating Hermione and I and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions. And the worst thing of all was that we had no time or opportunity to go and see Hagrid, because the strict new security measures had not been lifted. I kept forgetting to give Harry back his Invisibility Cloak and, along with that, what I wanted to tell him about Sirius.

Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. Us third years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday, limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks we had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the others by fussing about how her tortoise had looked move like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else's worries.

"Mine still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare..."

"Were the tortoises _supposed_ to breath steam?"

"It still had a willow-patterned shell, d'you think that'll count against me?"

Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did indeed test us on Cheering Charms. I did pretty well, got Neville to cheer up quite well, but Harry slightly overdid his out of nerves and Ron, who was his partner, ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform the charm himself. After dinner, we hurried back to our common room, not to relax, but to start studying for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy.

Hagrid resided over the Care of Magical Creatures exam the following morning with a very preoccupied air indeed, his heart didn't seem to be in it at all. He had provided a large tub of fresh flobberworms for the class, and told us that to pass the test, our flobberworm had to still be alive at the end of one hour. As flobberworms flourished best if left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam any of us had ever taken, and also gave Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid.

"Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed," Hagrid told us, bending low on the pretense of checking that Harry's flobberworm was still alive. "Bin cooped up too long. But still...we'll know day after tomorrow - one way or the other -"

We had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try as Harry might, I could see he couldn't get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and I saw Snape scribble something on his notes that looked like a zero before he moved away. Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which I scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told Harry and I about medieval witch-hunts, while I wished I could have had one of Fortescue's choco-nut sundaes with me in the stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time tomorrow, when it would all be over.

Our second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of us had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where we had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish our way across a patch of march while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new boggart.

"Excellent, Harry," Lupin muttered as I helped him climb out of the trunk, grinning. "Full marks."

Flushed with success, Harry and I hung around to watch Ron and Hermione. Ron did very well until he reached the hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.

"Hermione! Lupin said, startling. "What's the matter?"

"P - P - Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "Sh - she said I'd failed everything!"

It took a while to calm Hermione down. When at last she had regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, Ron, and I went back to the castle. Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met us on the top of the steps.

Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry and I.

"Hello there, Harry, Cheyenne!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"

"Yes," Harry and I said. Hermione and Ron, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background.

"Lovely day," Fudge said, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity...pity..."

He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry and I.

"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry, Cheyenne. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."

"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Ron interrupted, stepping forward.

"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," Fudge said, looking curiously at Ron.

"Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!" Ron said stoutly. "The hippogriff might get off!"

Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before our very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black mustache. I gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this...Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"

The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; I glanced down and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.

"Why'd you stop me?" Ron said angrily as we entered the Great Hall for lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!"

"Ron, you dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like that to his boss!" Hermione said, but she too looked very upset. "As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak..."

But Harry and I could tell Hermione didn't really believe what she was saying. All around us, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of the exams that afternoon, but Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn't join in.

My, Harry, and Ron's last exam was Divination; Hermione's Muggle Studies. We walked up the marble staircase together; Hermione left us on the first floor and Harry, Ron, and I proceeded all the way up to the seventh, where many of our class was sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed us as we went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of _Unfogging the Future_ open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. "Have any of you ever seen _anything_ in a crystal ball?" he asked us unhappily.

"Nope," Ron said in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry and I knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak's appeal started.

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silvery ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it okay?"

But they all refused to say.

"She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" Neville squeaked as he clambered back down the ladder toward Harry, Ron, and I, who'd now reached the landing.

"That's convenient," Ron snorted. "You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her" - he jabbed his thumb toward the trapdoor overhead - "she's a right old fraud."

"Yeah," Harry said as he looked at his own watch. It was now two o'clock. "Wish she'd hurry up..."

Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride.

"She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she informed Harry, Ron, and I. "I saw _loads_ of stuff...Well, good luck!"

She hurried off down the spiral staircase toward Lavender.

"Ronald Weasley," came the familiar, misty voice from over our heads. Ron grimaced at Harry and I, and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Harry and I were now the only people left to be tested. We settled ourselves on the floor with our backs against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, our minds across the grounds with Hagrid.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron's large feet reappeared on the ladder.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked him, standing and helping me up.

"Rubbish," Ron said. "Couldn't see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don't think she was convinced, though..."

"Meet you in the common room," Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney's voice called, "Cheyenne Power!"

The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sticky scent made me cough as I stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for me before a large crystal ball.

"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb... Take your time, now...then tell me what you see within it..."

I bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as I could, willing it to show me something other than swirling white fog. Slowly, two shapes caught my interest and I peered closer. My eyes widened.

"Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. "What do you see?"

I could feel the heat slowly diminish as I watched the shapes come in to focus. They were familiar and I could almost immediately identify what they were.

"I - I...I see two shapes..." I whispered, squinting my eyes. "They...they look so familiar..."

"What do they resemble?" Professor Trelawney whispered gently. "Take your time, dear..."

I racked my brain, trying to think what those shapes could be, then, it suddenly clicked.

"It's...the larger...the larger is a hippogriff. The other...it's a dog, my dog...He's in trouble...!"

"Indeed!" Professor Trelawney whispered, scribbling keenly on the parchment perched upon her knees. "My girl, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid's trouble with the Ministry of Magic! And the outcome of your beloved dog! Look closer...Does the hippogriff appear to have his head? And is your dog...is he moving?"

"Yes, they're...they're both...fine..."

"Are you sure?" Professor Trelawney urged me. "Are you quite sure, dear? You don't see the hippogriff writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe before it? No figures around you dog?"

"I - I...I see...towering...figures...trying...trying to grab my dog. The hippogriff is...is fine, no axe man..."

"No blood? No weeping Hagrid?"

"No...it's...it's fine. It's running...running toward my dog. It's chased the figures away...My dog's all right! he's...on the hippogriff's back...they're...they're flying...away..." I said, feeling slightly dizzy, my head starting to pound as I closed my eyes, willing the coming headache to go away, feeling the heat come rushing back all at once, which made me want more than ever to leave the room and the heat.

Professor Trelawney looked curious and she scribbled something else on the parchment.

"That's quite interesting, Miss Power. Hm, have you been worrying about your dog for a while now?" she asked. I looked up and nodded.

"Y-yes...I - I forgot to get his new tags...and promised I'd do it this summer... I'm just...afraid...if he gets out...he'll be set to the pound. My aunt and uncle do not much...much care for Padfoot...I have to...to take care of him on my own..." I lied quietly, praying she'd take it.

Professor Trelawney looked sympathetic, "Well, my dear, from what I've heard, your dog will be in danger, but he shall be saved and safe once more. I'm sure when you return home he will be waiting." I nodded my head again to her, but this time in thanks and stood straight once more to leave, but she stopped me.

"Wait a moment, dear, I'd like you to stay for Mr. Potter's exam. You two are connected on some deep level and I'd like you to see what he shall see." she said. I nodded slowly and took the closest seat as she called out Harry's name.

"And I promise not to mention what you have seen about your dog. It is still an exam." Professor Trelawney said and I smiled in thanks. The sound of the trapdoor opening caught my attention and their was a slight cough and the shuffle of tables and chairs as Harry drew closer. Professor Trelawney greeted him in much the same way and ask him to peer into the Orb and tell her what he saw.

I watched as Harry bent over the crystal ball and started as hard as he could, and knew he hoped the ball would show him something other than swirling white mist. However, it didn't appear to yield.

"Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted gently. "What do you see?"

I could tell the heat was really getting to him and knew he probably couldn't see anything in the Orb. He looked prepared to make stuff up, like Ron had.

"Er -" Harry said, "a dark shape...um..."

"What does it resemble?" Professor Trelawney whispered. "Think, now..."

I could see Harry trying to think.

"A hippogriff," he said firmly.

"Indeed!" Professor Trelawney said, scribbling excitedly on the parchment on her legs. We must seem like a spectacle to her. "My boy, like Miss Power, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid's trouble with the Ministry of Magic! But I'm curious...look closer...does the hippogriff appear to...have its head?"

"Yes," Harry replied firmly.

"Are you sure?" Professor Trelawney urged. "Are you quite sure, dear? You don't see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?"

"No!" Harry said, starting to look really sick.

"No blood? No weeping Hagrid?"

"No!" Harry said again, and I could tell he really wanted to leave the room and the heat, like I did. "It looks fine, it's - flying away..."

Professor Trelawney sighed softly.

"I think we will leave it there then...that's quite interesting of you two...you both did well."

I stood and pulled my bag on, moving closer to Harry as he picked up his bag. I took his hand and we turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind us.

**"****IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT."**

Harry and I wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.

"S - sorry?" Harry asked.

But Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear him. her eyes started to roll. Harry and I stood there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. We hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing - and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own.

**"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT...BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT...WILL SET OUT...TO REJOIN...HIS MASTER..."**

Professor Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Harry and I stood there, staring at her. Then, quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head snapped up again.

"I'm so sorry, my dears," she said dreamily, "the heat of the day, you know...I drifted off for a moment..."

Harry and I stood there, staring at her.

"Is there anything wrong, my dears?"

"You - you just told us that the - the Dark Lord's going to rise again...that his servant's going to go back to him..."

Professor Trelawney look thoroughly startled.

"The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My dear boy, that's hardly something to joke about...Rise again, indeed -"

"But you just said it! You said the Dark Lord -"

"I think you both must have dozed off too, dears!" Professor Trelawney said. "I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as _that_!"

Harry and I climbed back down the ladder and the spiral staircase, wondering...had we just heard Professor Trelawney make a real prediction? Or had that been her idea of an impressive end to the test?

Five minutes later we were dashing past the security trolls outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Professor Trelawney's words still resounding in our heads. People were striding past us in the opposite direction, laughing and joking, heading for the grounds and a bit of long-awaited freedom; by the time we had reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted. Over in the corner, however, sat Ron and Hermione.

"Professor Trelawney," Harry panted, "just told us -"

But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.

"Buckbeak lost," Ron said weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Hagrid's note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.

_Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it._

_Hagrid_

"We've got to go," Harry said at once. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," Ron said, who was staring out the window in a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allow...'specially not either of you, Harry, Chey..."

Harry sank his head into his hands, thinking.

"If we only had the Invisibility Cloaks..."

"Where are they?"

"In my dorm," I said quickly. Harry looked up. "What?" he asked. I shuffled my feet. "I snuck down to the passage at night and got the cloaks...exams got us busy though...so I kept forgetting to give you yours..."

Harry looked surprised. As did Hermione and Ron.

"Well, at least Chey got them back. I would have gone to get them if they were still down there. We do need them, after all." Hermione said.

Ron stared at her, "Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you lately!" Ron said, astounded. "First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney -"

Hermione looked rather flattered.

We went down to dinner with everybody else, but did not return to Gryffindor Tower afterward. Harry and I had the cloaks hidden down the front of our robes; we had to keep our arms folded to hide the lumps. We skulked in an empty chamber off the entrance hall, listening, until we were sure it was deserted. We heard a last pair of people hurrying across the hall and a door slamming. Hermione poked her head around the door.

"Okay," she whispered, "no one there - cloaks on -"

With the rope tied around our ankles, we crossed the hall on tiptoe beneath the cloaks, then walked down the stone front steps into the grounds. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees.

We reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.

"It's us," Harry hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloaks. Let us in and we can take them off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and we stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry and Hermione pulled off the cloaks as I untied my and Harry's ankles.

Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon our necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch then tears.

"Wan' some tea?" he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"I - I took him outside," Hagrid said, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' - an' smell fresh air - before -"

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

"We'll do it, Hagrid," Hermione and I said quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess.

"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. I glanced at Harry, telling him to try and cheer him up. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked back hopelessly.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Dumbledore -"

"He's tried," Hagrid said. "he's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared...Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like...threatened 'em, I expect...an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's...but it'll be quick an' clean...an' I'll be beside him..."

Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it - while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter - ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..."

I sniffled softly. Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn't be down here anyway...If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, Cheyenne, yeh'll both be in big trouble."

Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid. I quickly wiped my tears away too and bustled around, helping Hermione make tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.

"Ron! I - I don't believe it - it's _Scabbers_!"

Ron gaped at her and I could feel my stomach twist. Scabbers?

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table. I felt a flush of anger as I eyed the rat furiously.

"Scabbers!" Ron said blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself. I narrowed my eyes on the rat, cracking my knuckles.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" Ron said. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment.

"They're comin'..."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver bread gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.

"Yeh gotta go," Hagrid said. Every inch of him was trembling. "They mustn' find yeh here...Go now..."

Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione and I picked up the cloaks.

"I'll let yeh out the back way," Hagrid said.

We followed him to the door into his back garden. I felt strangely unreal, and even more so when we saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.

"It's okay, Beaky," Hagrid said softly. "It's okay..." He turned to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. "Go on," he said. "Get going."

But we didn't move.

"Hagrid, we can't -"

"We'll tell them what really happened -"

"They can't kill him -"

"It doesn't feel right -"

"Go!" Hagrid said fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

We had no choice. As Hermione and I threw the cloaks over each other and the boys, we heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where we had just vanished from sight.

"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen..."

And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.

Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I set off silently around Hagrid's house. As we reached the other side, the front door closed with a snap.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it..."

We started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

Ron stopped dead.

"Oh, please, Ron," Hermione began.

"It's Scabbers - he won't - stay put -"

Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," Ron hissed.

"Oh, give the stupid rat here, Ron!" I snapped, just wanting to get my hands on that disgusting little -

We heard a door open behind us and men's voice.

"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione breathed.

"Okay - Scabbers, stay _put_ -"

We walked forward; like Hermione, I was trying not to listen to the rumble of voice behind us. Ron stopped again.

"I can't hold him - Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us -"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione swayed on the spot.

"They did it!" she whispered to Harry and I. "I d - don't believe it - they did it!"


	17. Cat, Rat, and Dog

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Cat, Rat, and Dog**

My mind suddenly went blank with shock. The four of us stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility very last rays of the setting sun was casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind us, we heard a wild howling.

"Hagrid," Harry muttered. Without thinking about his actions, he made to turn back, but Ron and Hermione seized his arms.

"We can't," Ron said, who was paper-white. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him..."

Hermione's breathing was shallow and uneven.

"How - could - they?" she choked. "How _could_ they?"

"Come on," Ron said, his teeth seeming to be chattering.

We set off back toward the castle, walking slowly to keep ourselves hidden under the cloaks. The light was fading fast now. By the time we reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around us.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still - OUCH! He bit me!"

"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute -"

"He won't - stay - put -"

Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip.

"What's the _matter_ with him?"

But a quick turn of my head made me see - slinking toward us, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness - Crookshanks. Whether he could see us or was following the sound of Scabber's squeaks, I couldn't tell, but I knew he was coming for that filthy rat in Ron's grasp.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

But the cat was getting nearer -

Adrenaline coursed through me and I lunged as Scabbers escaped Ron's grasp. I seized his tail with one hand, his bony body with the other and threw my Invisibility Cloak off, taking off over the grounds in the direction of the Whomping Willow. Crookshanks bounded after me quickly and I could hear Ron's feet thundering along behind me, could hear him shouting after us.

"Chey! Where are you going - Give him back - Scabbers!"

A rough arm suddenly grabbed the back of my shirt and I fell forward with a heavy body landing on top of me. I clutched the struggling rat to my chest, being careful not to crush him and started to kick and elbow the boy above me.

"Ron, gerroff! Scabber's isn't who you think he is!" I screamed as he tried to get his arms around me and pry his rat from my hands. "NO! Ron, please, he isn't really a rat!" I said, tears escaping my eyes as I kicked at him again, feeling horrible about attacking one of my best friends, but knowing I needed to get Scabbers to Sirius. He was innocent. "Stop, Ron!"

There was a loud hissing and Crookshanks leapt onto Ron's back, trying to get him off me. Ron tried to push Crookshanks off him and rolled off me in the process. I sat up and pulled a small bag from my pocket, stuffing the rat inside and pulling it closed. "Look, I've got him, okay? I'll give him back once we're in the common room!" I told Ron, who was sprawled on the ground with Crookshanks slinking away from him and toward me once more.

"Ron - Chey - come on - back under the cloaks -" Hermione panted. "Dumbledore - the Minister - they'll be coming back out in a minute -"

But before we could cover ourselves again, before we could even catch our breath, we heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws...Something was bounding toward us, quiet as a shadow - the familiar, enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

I saw Harry reach for his wand, but too late - the dog had made an enormous leap and his front paws hit him on the chest - he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; inch-long teeth just an inch from his face -

"Padfoot, no!" I yelled, but he'd already rolled off Harry. Looking dazed and as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up. Padfoot growled as he skidded around for a new attack.

I got to my feet, clutching the withering bag in my hands. "Padfoot!" I called, holding an arm out. As the dog sprang back toward us he pushed Harry aside and his jaws fastened instead around my outstretched arm. Harry and Ron lunged forward, Harry seizing a handful of Padfoot's hair and Ron with his arms around my waist, but we were being dragged away as easily as though we were a couple of rag dolls -

There there was a quick slap and Harry was suddenly knocked off his feet again. Hermione shrieked with pain and fell too.

A suddenly light appeared and I could see Harry had lit the tip of his wand. Above us, the Whomping Willow was thrashing angrily, it's branches creaking as though in a high wind, whipping back and forth to stop them getting closer.

Sirius dodged a few more branches before we reached the base and he started dragging Ron and I backward into a large gap in the roots - Ron was fighting furiously, trying to dig his feet into the ground and trying to slow us down, but we were already starting to slid down the entrance -

"Ron! Chey!" I heard Harry shout and heard him trying to get closer, and the unmistakable thud as he was felled again.

Sirius nearly had Ron and I into the tunnel, and was getting ready to let us on his back when he tugged and I felt myself stretch. I lifted my head - Ron had hooked his foot around a root in an effort to stop Sirius from pulling us farther underground - before I could tell him it was safe there was a horrible crack like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, he was pulled into the darkness. Sirius stopped and let go of my arm. I pried myself from Ron's grasp and wrapped my arms around his waist as I sat up. Sirius helped as I got him and myself onto his back and we lay low into his fur as he took off down the tunnel.

We were inside a low, earthy tunnel, which Sirius could navigate without too much trouble and I knew we were headed for the Shrieking Shack, which he'd told me had been used as the gang's sort of 'secret hide-out.' Ron was too terrified to speak and he would only give small groans of pain if his leg was jostled. I hung onto him tightly, making sure he stayed on the dog's back. The tunnel went on and on and felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes...All I could think of was what Harry might think, what Hermione and Ron could think! Would they assume I'd been brainwashed to help Sirius? Would they hate me for doing what I was doing? Sirius began to slow, panting.

And then the tunnel began to rise; a moment later it twisted, and I could see a patch of dim light through a small opening. Sirius climbed up the tunnel and I caned my neck to see what lay beyond the entrance.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Sirius climbed out of the hole and, without stopping, turned to an open door to our right, which led into a shadowy hallway. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and I watched as his long tail made a sort of trail in the dust on the floor as he moved past. It followed us all the way up the crumbling staircase and to the dark landing. Carrying us to a room at the end of the landing, Sirius pushed the door open and walked toward a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings. I climbed off him as he stopped and helped Ron lay comfortably on the bed. Sirius retreated back into a corner and transformed back, which caused the color to drain from Ron's face, but I ignored it as I gently dug his wand out of his shirt and moved to stand in the corner with Sirius, standing somewhat behind him and gazing at the floor, feeling guilty. Sirius wrapped a gentle arm around my shoulders and whispered reassuringly.

It took about five minutes for Crookshanks to join us and he curled up at Ron's feet, purring softly, his bottlebrush tail flicking. Ron's leg was stuck out at a strange angle and he clutched it, whimpering softly. From downstairs, I could hear footsteps and held my breath, waiting for Hermione and Harry to arrive, hoping they weren't too worried. We didn't have to wait long as Harry suddenly kicked the door open and saw Ron.

He and Hermione dashed across to him.

"Ron - are you okay?"

"Where's the dog and Chey?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned before I could speak. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap - He's got Chey -"

"What -"

_"He's the dog...he's an Animagus..."_

Ron stared over Harry's shoulder. Harry wheeled around. In one movement, Sirius stepped away from me and closed the door behind them.

I knew what they could see: A mass of filthy, matted hair that hung to his elbows. If his eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth bared in a grin. That was all Sirius Black.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.

Harry's and Hermione's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Sirius caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry.

"I thought you'd come and help your friends," he said hoarsely. His voice sounded better than it had when we first met, since he had used it a fair few times. "Your and Cheyenne's fathers would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful...it will make everything much easier..."

I could see the hate boiling in Harry's eyes as it erupted, leaving no room for fear. For the first time in my life, I could see a murderous gleam in Harry's eyes that made me whimper and back away, shaking. Harry looked ready to kill. "Harry, wait, you don't understand -!" I stepped quickly forward to stand by Sirius, but it was too late. Without a second thought, I watched as Harry started forward, but there was a sudden movement on either side of him and two pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back..."No, Harry!" I heard Hermione gasp in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, spoke to Sirius.

"If you want to kill Harry and Cheyenne once you're done with her, you'll have to kill us too!" he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

Worry flickered in Sirius's shadowed eyes.

"Lie down," he said quietly to Ron."You'll damage that leg even more."

"Please, Ron, listen to Sirius, he knows what he's talking about." I said quietly, fighting back my tears.

"Didn't you hear me?" Ron said weakly, still speaking to Sirius, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. "You'll have to kill all four of us!"

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," Sirius said, and his grin widened.

"Why's that?" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Ron and Hermione. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew...What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry, please, he didn't -"

"Harry!" I heard Hermione whimper. "Be quiet!"

"HE KILLED OUR MUMS AND DADS!" Harry roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of Hermione's and Ron's restraint and lunged forward - Sirius grabbed my shoulders and pushed my out of the way - I landed, sprawled, on the floor and raised my head -

I could see it - Harry'd forgotten about magic - he'd forgotten he was a short, skinny, thirteen year old, whereas Sirius was a tall, fully-grown man - I knew all Harry knew was that he wanted to hurt Sirius as badly as he could and that he didn't care how much he got hurt in return -

Perhaps it was the shock of Harry doing something so stupid, but Sirius didn't raise the wands in time - one of Harry's hands fastened over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collided with the side of Black's head and they fell, backward, into the wall -

Hermione was screaming; Ron was yelling; there was a blinding flash as the wands in Sirius's hand sent a jet of sparks into the air that missed Harry's face by inches; the shrunken arm under his fingers twisted madly, but I could see him clinging on, his other hand punching every part of Black it could find.

But Sirius's free hand had found Harry's throat - my heart sank -

"No," he hissed, "I've waited too long -"

The fingers tightened and I heard Harry choke, his glasses askew.

Then, Hermione's foot swung out of nowhere. Sirius let out a grunt of pain and released Harry; Ron had thrown himself on Sirius' wand hand and I saw the three wands roll across the floor -

I saw Harry fight free of the tangle of bodies and spot his wand rolling across the floor; he threw himself forward -

"Argh!"

Crookshanks had joined the fray; I could see both sets of front claws had sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; I propelled myself forward, snatching up Hermione and Ron's wands; Crookshanks darted toward Harry's wand - I dived forward -

"NO YOU DON'T!" Harry roared, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cap leap aside, spitting; Harry's elbow smashed into my cheek and I slid back a few feet; Harry snatched up his wand and turned -

"Get out of the way!" he shouted at Ron and Hermione.

They didn't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambled aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands where I'd dropped them. Ron crawled to the fourposter and collapsed onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching at his broken leg. Hermione grabbed me by the arms and hauled me toward the bed, checking for wounds, but I ignored her, focused on the boys across from us.

Sirius was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointed straight at Sirius' heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" I heard him whisper and I tried to break from Hermione's grasp.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Sirius' chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Sirius' left eye and his nose was bleeding.

"You killed my parents," Harry said, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. "And Cheyenne's. And now you've...you've put a spell on her and made her follow your orders!"

"Harry, no, you don't understand." I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Sirius stared up at him out of his sunken eyes.

"I don't deny the charges from twelve years ago...but Cheyenne made the conscious choice to help me on her own," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story of what happened..."

"The whole story?" Harry repeated furiously. "You sold them all to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't...You don't understand..."

"Harry, please, listen to him. Please, Harry, please..." I whimpered, more tears escaping my eyes.

"I understand a lot better than you think," Harry said, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard them, did you? Our mums...trying to stop Voldemort killing us...and you did that...you did it..."

Before either of them could say another word, something ginger streaked past Harry; Crookshanks leapt onto Sirius' chest and settled himself there, right over his heart. Sirius blinked and looked at the cat.

"Get off," he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Sirius' robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes. Behind me, Hermione gave a dry sob and I could feel her grip loosen. I broke free and scrambled to my feet, running toward the boys. I collapsed next to Sirius and wrapped my arms around his middle, burying my face in his shoulder, shaking.

"Cheyenne?" Sirius said, startled and I felt him touch my shoulder. "You have to let me go." he said sternly. I shook my head, "NO! I wouldn't! Sirius, you're innocent and I promised." I said, looking up at him, at his worried eyes, then up at Harry's stunned face. I glared at him, "You kill him Harry, you'll have to kill me too, or do you think the spell will lift if you kill him? He's not the one that killed our parents."

I could see the torn look in my best friends' eyes as he stared down at us. His hand tightened on his wand and I could see he could care less about killing Crookshanks, who'd been in league with Sirius since, probably before school started. I could tell Harry thought if Sirius wanted to save Crookshanks, it proved he cared more for the cat than our parents, but his whole view had been turned upside down at seeing how he was trying to protect me now. His eyes narrowed.

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Sirius and I staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent.

And then came a new sound -

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor - someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE - SIRIUS BLACK -_QUICK!"_

Sirius made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks; Harry gripped his wand convulsively and I could see his convulsion to kill Sirius now, but the footsteps were thundering up the stairs and Harry still hadn't done it.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Sirius, and then to Sirius himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Lupin shouted.

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Sirius, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest and me at his side, my arms around his stomach.

I could see Harry standing there, feeling suddenly empty and knew he was ashamed he hadn't done it. His nerve had failed him, especially after I'd stepped in and knew he though Sirius was going to be handed back to the dementors.

Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Harry looked quickly at Lupin and I could see he didn't understand what Lupin meant, could almost here the question running through his head: Who was Lupin talking about? He turned to look at Sirius and I again.

Sirius' face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

"But then...," Lupin muttered, staring at Sirius so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "...why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" - Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Sirius, something none of us could see, " - unless _he_ was the one...unless you switched...without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Sirius nodded.

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on -?"

But he never finished the question, because I knew what he saw next stunned him. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixedly at Sirius. Then, he walked to Sirius' side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor and I released him, and embraced Sirius like a brother. I stood next to them, smiling.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Sirius and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You - you -"

"Hermione -"

" - you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down -"

"I didn't tell anyone! Neither Chey nor I did!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you -"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin shouted. "I can explain -"

I could see Harry shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"Harry, Hermione, please, calm down, let Lupin explain!" I stepped closer to Harry, but he moved back, shaking his head and turning his face away from me. I felt my heart sink and turned my eyes downward, feeling fresh tears sting the back of my eyes.

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "I haven't been Sirius' friend, but I am now - Let me explain..."

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too - _he's a werewolf_."

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead, him nor Cheyenne..." An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped.

_"Get away from me, werewolf!"_

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and I and said, "How long have you both known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since Chey and I did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted," Lupin said coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant...Did you both check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh.

"You're both the cleverest witches of your ages I've ever met, Hermione, Cheyenne."

"We're not," Hermione whispered. "If we'd been a bit cleverer, we'd have told everyone what you are!" I gave a small squeak of resistance.

"But they already know," Lupin said. "At least, the staff do."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff though so," Lupin said. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy -"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He was pointing at Sirius, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. I followed him, rubbing his back. Ron edged away from us, dragging his leg.

"I have _not_ been helping Sirius," Lupin said. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look -"

He separated Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned.

"There," Lupin said, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

I could see the uncertainty on Harry's face and knew he was wondering if it was a trick.

"If you haven't been helping him," he said, with a furious glance at Sirius, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," Lupin said. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it -"

"You know how to work it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Of course he does, Harry..." I broke in, unable to look him in the eyes. "Lupin was one of the Marauder's that wrote it. He's Moony -"

"Yes, Cheyenne is quite right," Lupin said. "I helped write it. I am Moony - that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"Sirius is Padfoot...that's why you heard me call him that earlier..."

"You_ wrote_ -?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Cheyenne, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

He had started to pace up and down, looking at us. Little patches of dust rose at his feet.

"You might have been wearing both your father's old cloaks, Harry, Cheyenne -"

"How d'you know about the cloaks?"

"The number of times I saw James and Mark disappearing under them...," Lupin said, waving an impatient hand. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrids' hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by someone else."

"What?" Harry said. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Lupin said, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" Harry said.

"Think about it, Harry! Who did we pick up at Hagrid's cabin?"

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled _Sirius Black_...I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled three of you into the Whomping Willow -"

"Two of us!" Ron said angrily.

"No, Ron, he's right." I said, frowning seriously. "There were three of us."

Lupin had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" Ron said. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," I said. "Give him the rat, Ron."

Ron hesitated, then pulled the small bag I'd tied Scabbers in out of his robes. He untied it and pulled Scabbers out and he emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Sirius's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Sirius croaked suddenly.

"What d'you mean - of course he's a rat -"

"No, he's not," Lupin said quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," I said, sighing, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."


	18. The Five Marauder's

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Swiftfall**

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then, I saw Ron voice what Harry was thinking.

"You three are mental."

"Ridiculous!" Hermione said faintly.

"Peter Pettigrew's _dead_!" Harry said. "_He_ killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Sirius, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me...not this time, though!"

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Sirius lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Sirius' weight fell on his broken leg.

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forward and helping me drag Sirius away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that - they need to understand - we've got to explain -"

"Professor Lupin is right, Sirius, we need to do this right!" I said, trying to sooth the man a little.

"We can explain afterwards!" Sirius snarled, trying to throw Lupin and I off. One hand was still clawing the air as it tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape.

"They've - got - a - right - to - know - everything!" Lupin panted as we still tried to restrain Sirius. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harry - you owe Harry the truth, Sirius, just like you did Cheyenne!"

Sirius stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands.

"All right, then," Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for..."

"You're nutters, all three of you," Ron said shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this, I'm off."

He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Scabbers was fighting too hard; Ron swayed and overbalanced, and Harry caught him and pushed him back down to the bed. Then, ignoring Sirius, Harry turned to Lupin.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he said. "A whole street full of them..."

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" Sirius said savagely, still watching Scabbers struggling in Ron's hands.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter," Lupin said, nodding. "I believed it myself - until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies... Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

Harry looked down at Ron, and as their eyes met, I could see them agree silently: Sirius, Lupin, and I were all out of our minds. Our story probably didn't make much sense. They probably asked how Scabbers could be Peter Pettigrew. And they probably thought Azkaban must have unhinged Sirius after all - and why Lupin and I were playing along with him.

Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly.

"But Professor Lupin...Scabbers can't be Pettigrew...it just can't be true, you know it can't..."

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though we were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows.

"Because...because people would _know_ if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And Cheyenne and I looked them up when we did our homework - the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things...and we went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there has been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list -"

I pushed the bangs from my eyes, embarrassed and feeling stupid at the same time. Lupin started to laugh.

"Right again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that there used to be four unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," snarled Sirius, who was still watching Scabber's every desperate move. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right...but you'll need to help me, Sirius," Lupin said, "I only know how it began..."

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All six of us stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there..."

"This place is haunted!" Ron said.

"It's not," Lupin said, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted...The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment, then said, "That's where all of this starts - with me becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten...and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure -"

"The potion Professor Snape makes for Professor Lupin has only recently been discovered. It makes him safer to be around. Professor Lupin keeps his mind if he takes it the week preceding the full moon, even when he transforms...He can curl up in his office like a harmless, domesicated canine and wait for the moon to wane again." I said, pausing when everyone turned to stare at me. I looked at each face, clearing my throat some. "What...? I did research on it after Harry and I had tea with Profesor Lupin in his office while you two were in Hogsmeade. Since Hermione and I had found out he was a werewolf, I had a feeling that the potion had to be connected somehow to it and thought to check it out." I shrugged some.

Lupin chuckled again.

"But, anyway, before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school..." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry, then me. "I told you both, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I came to Hogwarts. This house" - Lupin looked miserably around the room, - "the tunnel that leads to it - they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

I could see Harry couldn't see where this story was going, but he was listening raptly all the same. The only sound apart from Lupin's voice was Scabbers's frightened squeaking.

"My transformation in those days were - were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor...Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, four great friends, Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, your fathers, Harry, Cheyenne - James Potter and Mark Power.

"Now, my four friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you two, Hermione, Cheyenne, worked out the truth...

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"Our dads too?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Yes, they did, Harry." I said smiling. He looked at me and smiled weakly back.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your fathers and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong - one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James, Sirius, and Mark. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Hermione asked, sounding puzzling.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," Lupin said. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They snuck out of the castle every month under James and Mark's Invisibility Cloaks. They transformed...Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," Sirius snarled, still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face. I gripped his shoulder gently, trying to calm him down.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there...well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius, James, and Mark transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students every found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did...And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs. Mark was Swiftfall."

"What sort of animal -?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," Lupin said heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless - carried away with our own cleverness.

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course...he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led four fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..."

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me...and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it...so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Sirius said harshly, tking his eyes off Scabbers for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," I said softly before Lupin could open his mouth. "He teaches here now...as our Potions teacher." Lupin looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons...you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me -"

Sirius made a derisive noise.

"It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to...hoping he could get us expelled..."

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. "We were in the same year, you know, and we - er - didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James and Mark. Jealous, I think, of James and Mark's talent on the Quidditch field...anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it - if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf - but your fathers, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to their lives...Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," Harry said slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloaks, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.


	19. The Servant of Lord Voldemort

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Servant of Lord Voldemort**

Hermione screamed. Sirius leapt to his feet and pushed me behind him. I felt like I'd just received a huge electric shock.

"I found these at the base of the Whomping Willow," Snape said, throwing the cloaks aside, careful to keep his wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, Power, I thank you..."

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did...lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus -" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use those old place as your hideout -"

"Professor Snape, you're making a mistake," I said quickly, stepping out from behind Sirus. "Please, sir, you hadn't heard everything - we can explain - Sirius isn't here to kill Harry and I -"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," Snape siad, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this...He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin...a _tame_ werewolf -"

"You fool," Lupin said softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor unable to move. With a roar of rage, Sirius started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Sirius's eyes.

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Sirius stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

I stood there, shaking, not knowing what to do. I glanced around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry looked confused on who to believe; Ron looked just as confused, still fighting to keep hold on the strugging Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape - it - it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w - would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, Power, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murder and werewolf. For once in your life, _hold you tongue."_

"But if - if there was a mistake -"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Sirius's face. Hermione fell silent and I felt anger raise in me. I moved to step closer but someone wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back. I pulled my eyes awake from the men long enough to register that Harry had wrapped a protective arm around me and pulled me back, out of danger. I could see the protective gleam in his eye as he glared at Snape.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Sirius. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..."

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Sirius snarled. "As long as this boys brings his rat up to the castle" - he jerked his head at Ron - "I'll come quietly..."

"Up to the castle?" Snape said silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay..."

What little color there was in Sirius's face left it.

"You - you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat - look at the rat -"

But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that neither Harry nor I had ever seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too -"

I pushed myself out of Harry's arms and ran toward the door, blocking it with my body and glared up at my teacher. Harry suddenly crossed the room after me and blocked the door too.

"Get out of the way, Potter, Power, you're both in enough trouble already," Snape snarled. "If I hadn't been here to save your skins -"

"Professor Lupin could have killed us about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "We've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish us off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape hissed. "Get out of the way!"

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" I yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN -"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter, and like father, like daughter, Power! I have just saved your necks! You should both be thanking me on bended knees! You both would have been well served if they'd killed you! You'd both have died like your fathers, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black - now get out of the way, or I will _make_ _you_. GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Harry and I glanced at each other, making up our minds in a split second. Before Snape could take even one step toward us, we had raised our wands.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ we yelled together - except that ours weren't the only voices that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out.

Harry and I looked around. Both Ron and Hermione had tried to disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Snape's wand soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks.

"You shouldn't have done that," Sirius said, looking at Harry and I. "You should've left him to me..."

I could see Harry avoiding Sirius' eye and his uncertainity about whether he'd done the right thing.

"We attacked a teacher...We attacked a teacher...," Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble -"

Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Sirius bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them.

"Thank you, Harry, Cheyenne," he said.

"I'm still not saying I believe you," he told Lupin.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Lupin said. "You, boy - give me Peter, please. Now."

Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest.

"Come off it," he said weakly. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on _Scabbers_? I mean..." He looked up at Harry and Hermione for support. "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat - there are millions of rats - how's he supposed ot know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," Lupin said, turning to Sirius and frowning slightly. "How _did_ you find out where he was?"

Sirius put one of his clawlike hands inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out to show everyone.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers.

"How did you get this?" Lupin asked Sirius, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," Sirius said. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page...on this boy's shoulder...I knew him at once...how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts...to where Harry and Cheyenne were..."

"My God," Lupin said softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw..."

"What about it?" Ron asked defiantly.

"He's got a toe missing," Sirius said.

"Of course," Lupin breathed. "So simple...so _brilliant_...he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," Sirius said. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lilly, James, Mark, and Kristen. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself - and sped down into the sewer with the other rats..."

"Don't you remember, Ron...?" I said softly. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right -"

"Twelve years, in face," Lupin said. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We - we've been taking good care of him!" Ron said.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Lupin said. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again..."

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" Ron said, nodding toward Crookshanks, who was still purring on the bed.

"But Ron, don't you remember? Scabbers had been looking sick before he met Crookshanks...ever since your return from Egypt...since the time when Sirius had escaped..." I pointed out gently.

"And this cat isn't mad," Sirius said hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me...Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione breathed.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't...so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me...As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table...And he helped Cheyenne find me and understand my situation..." He smiled at me and I smiled back.

I could see Harry still trying to understand this, thinking it absurd, but then...

"But Peter go wind of what was going on and ran for it..." Sirius croaked. "This cat - Crookshanks, did you call him? - told me Peter had left blood on the sheets...I supposed he bit himself...Well, faking his own death had worked once..."

These words seemed to jolt Harry back to his senses.

"And why did he fake his death?" he asked furiously. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed our parents!"

"NO!" I said, "Harry -"

"And now you've come to finish him off!"

"Yes, I have," Sirius said, with an evil look at Scabbers.

"Then we should've let Snape take you!" Harry shouted.

"Harry," Lupin said hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your and Cheyenne's parents, and Peter tracked him down - but it was the other way around, don't you see? _Peter_ betrayed your mothers and fathers - Sirius tracked _Peter_ down -"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry yelled. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

He was pointing at Sirius, who shook his head slowly; the sunken eyes were suddenly overbright.

"Harry...I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I persuaded Lily, James, Mark, and Kristen to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me...I'm to blame, I know it...They night they died, I arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies...I realized what Peter must've done...what I'd done..."

His voice broke. He turned away.

"Enough of this," Lupin said, and there was a steely note in his voice neither Harry nor I had ever heard before. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, _give me that rat_."

"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Lupin said tensely.

"Force him to show himself," Lupin said. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and Lupin took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

"Ready, Sirius?" Lupin said.

Sirius had already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together?" he asked quietly.

"I think so," Lupin said, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One - two - THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly - Ron yelled - the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then -

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up. I screamed and backed up and Harry pulled me to his chest.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry or Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at us all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry and I saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Well, hello, Peter," Lupin said pleasantly, as though rats freguently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."

"S - Sirius...R - Remus..." Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends...my old friends..."

Sirius's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lilly, James, Kristen, and Mark died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed -"

"Remus," Pettigrew gasped, and Harry and I could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you...? He tried to kill me, Remus..."

"So we've herd," Lupin said, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so -"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry and I saw that he used his middle finger, because his index was missing. "He killed Lily, James, Kristen, and Mark and now he's going to kill me too...You've got to help me, Remus..."

Sirius's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," Lupin said.

"Sorted things out?" Pettigrew squealed, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" Lupin said, his brown furrowed. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of?" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Sirius started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he said.

Pettigrew flinched as though Sirius had brandished a whip at him.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" Sirius asked. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius -" Pettigrew muttered, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years," Sirius said. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter...They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them...I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' and Powers' on your information...and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways...If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter -"

"Don't know...what you're talking about...," Pettigrew said again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. "You don't believe this - this madness, Remus -"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," Lupin said evenly.

"Innocent, but scared!" Pettigrew squealed. "If Voldemort's supports were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban - the Spy, Sirius Black!"

Sirius's face contorted.

"How dare you," he growled, sounding suddenly like the bear-seized dog he had been. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter - I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us...me and Remus...and James and Mark..."

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"Me, a spy...must be out of your mind...never...don't know how you can say such a -"

"Lily, James, Kristen, and Mark only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Sirius hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. "I though it was the perfect plan...a bluff...Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you...It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him both the Potters and the Powers."

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; I could catch words like 'far-fetched' and 'lunacy,' but I couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione said timidly. "Can - can I say something?"

"Certainly, Hermione," Lupin said courteously.

"Well - Scabbers - I mean, this - this man - he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry or Cheyenne before now?"

"There!" Pettigrew said shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair on either Harry or Cheyenne's heads! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," Sirius said. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you were back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out of news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him..."

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

"Er - Mr. Black -" Hermione said.

"Sirius," I said softly.

Sirius jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her.

"If you don't mind me asking, how - how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" Pettigrew gasped, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I -"

Lupin silenced him with a look. Sirius was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me...but it kept me sane and knowing who I am...helped me keep my powers...so when it all became...too much...I could transform in my cell...become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know..." he swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions...They could tell that my feelings were less - less human, less complex when I was a dog...but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand...

"But then I saw Peter in that picture...I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry and Cheyenne...perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again..."

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Sirius as though hypnotized.

"...ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies...and to deliver the last Potter and Power to them. If he gave them Harry and Cheyenne, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors...

"So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive..."

Harry and I remembered what Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley. "The guards say he's been talking in his sleep...always the same words..._'He's at Hogwarts.' _"

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it...It wasn't a happy feeling...it was an obsession...but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog...It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused...I was thin, very thin...thin enough to slip through the bars...I swam as a dog back to the mainland...I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch Quidditch, of course, and when I went to speak with Cheyenne. You both fly as well as your fathers did, Harry, Cheyenne..."

He looked at Harry and I. I smiled back and Harry kept a steady gaze with him.

"Believe me," Sirius croaked. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed Lilly and James, or Kristen and Mark. I would have died before I betrayed any of them."

I looked behind me at Harry and I could see, at long last that Harry believed him. Looking like he couldn't speak, he nodded. Tears stung my eyes and slid down my cheeks and I threw my arms around him in a huge hug. Startled, Harry hesitated and then hugged me back.

"No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

"Sirius - it's me...it's Peter...your friend...you wouldn't..."

Sirius kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," Sirius said.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this...wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," Lupin said. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," Sirius said.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," Lupin said, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course," Sirius said, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," Lupin said grimly.

"You wouldn't...you won't...," Pettigrew gasped. And he scrambled around to Ron.

"Ron...haven't I been a good friend...a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you...you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.

"I let you sleep in my _bed_!" he said.

"Kind boy...kind master..." Pettigrew crawled toward Ron, "you won't let them do it...I was your rat...I was a good pet..."

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," Sirius said harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl...clever girl...you - you won't let them...Help me..."

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry and I. Harry quickly untangled himself from me and pushed me behind him. I clutched his shoulder.

"Harry...Harry...you look just like your father...just like him...Cheyenne...Cheyenne...you're just as beautiful as your mother..."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY AND CHEYENNE?" Sirius roared."HOW DARE YOU FACE THEM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES AND KRISTEN IN FRONT OF THEM?"

"Harry, Cheyenne," Pettigrew whispered, shuffling toward us, hands outstretched. Harry's arm wrapped around me and he backed us away. "Harry, Cheyenne, James and Mark wouldn't have wanted me killed...James and Mark would have understood...they would have shown me mercy..."

Both Sirius and Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily, James, Kristen, and Mark to Voldemort," Sirius said, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch, like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord...you have no idea...he has weapons you can't imagine...I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James and Mark. I never meant it to happen...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me -"

"DON'T LIE!" Sirius bellowed. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMTION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY, JAMES, KRISTEN, AND MARK DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He - he was taking over everywhere!" Pettigrew gasped. "Wh - what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" Sirius said, with a terrible fury on his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" Pettigrew whined. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" Sirius roared. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Sirius and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realized," Lupin said quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall.

"NO!" Harry and I yelled. We ran forward, placing ourselves in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," we said breathlessly. "You can't."

Sirius and Lupin both looked staggered.

"Harry, Cheyenne, this piece of vermin is the reason neither of you have any parents," Sirius snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you both die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole families."

"We know," Harry and I panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the dementors...He can go to Azkaban...but don't kill him."

"Harry! Cheyenne!" Pettigrew gasped, and he flung his arms around my and Harry's knees. "You - thank you - it's more than I deserve - thank you -"

"Get off us," Harry and I spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off us in disgust. "We're not doing this for you. We're doing it because - we don't reckon our dads would've wanted them to become killers - just for you."

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Sirius and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

"You're the only people who have the right to decide, Harry, Cheyenne," Sirius said. "But think...think what he did..."

"He can go to Azkaban," I repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does..."

Pettigrew was still wheezing behind us.

"Very well," Lupin said. "Stand aside, Harry, Cheyenne."

Harry and I hesitated.

"I'm going to tie him up," Lupin said. "That's all, I swear."

Harry and I stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot form Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," Sirius growled, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, "we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry, Cheyenne?"

Harry and I looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see us.

"Right," Lupin said, suddenly businesslike. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap you leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand, and muttered, _"Ferula."_ Bandages sping up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince.

"That's better," he said. "Thanks."

"What about Professor Snape?" Hermione said in a small voice. looking down at Snape's prone figure.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," Lupin said, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. "You were just a little - overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er - perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this..."

He muttered _"Mobilicorpus."_ As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a gortesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloaks and tucked them safely into his pockets.

"And two of us should be chained to this," Sirius said, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure.

"I'll do it," Lupin said.

"And me," Ron said savagely, limping forward.

Sirius conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He seemed to have taken Scabber's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.


	20. The Dementor's Kiss

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Dementor's Kiss.**

Neither Harry nor I had ever been part of a stranger group. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs; Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron went next, looking like entrants in a six-legged race. Next came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as we descended, held up by his own wand, which was being pointed at him by Sirius. Harry, Hermione, and I brought up the rear.

Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron had to turn sideways to manage it; Lupin still had Pettigrew covered with his wand. Harry and I could see them edging awkwardly along the tunnel in single file. Crookshanks was still in the lead. Harry and I went right after Sirius, who was still making Snape drift along ahead of us; he kept bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling. We had the impression Sirius was making no effort to prevent this.

"You what what this means?" Sirius said abruptly to Harry and I as we made our slow progress along the tunnel. "Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," I said happily.

"Yes...," Sirius said. "But I'm also - I don't know if anyone ever told either of you - I'm both your godfather."

"Yea, we knew that," Harry said.

"Well...your parents appointed me your guardian," Sirius said stiffly. "If anything happened to them..."

I suddenly remembered. Did Sirius mean what I thought he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you both want to stay with your aunt and uncle," Sirius said. "But...well...think about it. Once my name's cleared...if you wanted a...a different home..."

I could feel my heart flutter and small tears appeared in my eyes.

"What - live with you?" he said. Harry accidently cracked his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. "Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought neither of you would want to," Sirius said quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd -"

"Are you insane?" Harry said, his voice easily as croaky as Sirius's. "Of course we want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can we move in?"

Sirius turned right around to look at us; Snape's head was scraping the ceiling but Sirius didn't seem to care.

"You want to?" he said. "You both mean it?"

"Yeah, we mean it!" Harry and I said.

Sirius's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry and I had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger was shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry's and my parents' weddings.

We did not speak again until we had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.

Sirius saw Snape up through the hole, then stood back for Harry, Hermione, and I to pass. At last, all of us were out.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, we set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. My mind was buzzing. Harry and I were going to leave the Dursleys. We were going to live with Sirius Black, all our parents' best friend...We felt dazed...What would happen when we told the Dursleys we were going to live with the convict we'd seen on television...!

"One wrong move, Peter," Lupin said threateningly ahead. His wand was still pointed sideways at Pettigrew's chest.

Silently we tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of Sirius, his chin bumping on his chest. And then -

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Our party was bathed in moonlight.

Snape collided with Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. Sirius froze. He flung out one arm to make Harry, Hermione, and I stop.

I could see Lupin's silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

"Oh, my -" Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run," Sirius whispered. "Run. Now."

But neither Harry nor I could run. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin. He leapt forward but Sirius caught him around the chest and threw him back.

"Leave it to me - RUN!"

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks's hair was on end again; he was backing away -

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. He had transformed. The enormous, bearlike dog bounded forward. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward, away from Ron and Pettigrew. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other -

Harry and I stood, transfixed by the sight, too intent upon the battle to notice anything else. It was Hermione's scream that alerted us -

Pettigrew had dived for Lupin's dropped wand. Ron, unsteady on his bandaged leg, fell. There was a bang, a burst of light - and Ron lay motionless on the ground. Another bang - Crookshanks flew into the air and back to the earth in a heap.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry yelled, pointing his own wand at Pettigrew; Lupin's wand flew high into the air and out of sight. "Stay where you are!" Harry shouted as I ran forward.

Too late. Pettigrew had transformed. I saw his bald tail whip through the manacle on Ron's outstretched arm and heard a scurrying through the grass.

There was a howl and a rumbling growl; I felt Harry grab me as we turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest -

"Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!" Harry yelled.

Sirius was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back, but at Harry's words he scrambled up again, and in an instant, the sound of his paws faded to silence as he pounded away across the grounds.

Harry, Hermione, and I dashed over to Ron.

"What did he do to him?" Hermione whispered. Ron's eyes were only half-closed, his mouth hung open; he was definitely alive, we could hear him breathing, but he didn't seem to recognize us.

"I don't know..."

Harry and I looked desperately around. Sirius and Lupin both gone...we had no one but Snape for company, still hanging, unconscious, in midair.

"We'd better get them up to the castle and tell someone," Harry said, pushing his hair out of his eyes and I chewed my lip. "Come -"

But then, from beyond the range of our vision, we heard a yelping, a whining; a dog in pain...

"Sirius," Harry and I muttered, looking at each other, then into the darkness.

We had a moment's indecision, but there was nothing we could do for Ron at the moment, and by the sound of it, Sirius was in trouble -

Taking each other's hands, Harry and I set off at a run, Hermione right behind us. The yelping seemed to be coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. We pelted toward it, and Harry and I, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean -

The yelping stoppd abruptly. As we reached the lakeshore, we saw why - Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head.

_"Nooo,"_ he moaned. _"Noooo...please..."_

And then we saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward us. We spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating our insides, fog staring to obscure our vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling us...

"Hermione, think of something happy!" Harry yelled, raising his wand and pushing me behind him, blinking furiously to clear his vision as I shook my head to rid it of the faint screaming that had started inside it -

_We're going to live with our godfather. We're leaving the Dursleys._

I forced himself to think of Sirius, and only Sirius, and, with my back to Harry's, began to chant: _"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

Sirius gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death.

_He'll be all right. We're going to go and live with him._

_"Expecto patronum!_ Hermione, help us! _Expecto patronum!"_

_"Expecto_ -" Hermione whispered, "_expecto - expecto -"_

But she couldn't do it. The dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from us. They formed a solid wall around Harry, Hermione, and I, and were getting closer...

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ Harry and I yelled, trying to blot the screaming from our ears. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

A couple of thin wisps of silver escaped our wands and hovered like mist before us. At the same moment, Harry and I felt Hermione collapse next to us. We were alone...completely alone...

_"Expecto - expecto patronum -"_

I slowly slid down and could feel my knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding my eyes. With a huge effort, I fought to remember - Sirius was innocent - innocent - _We'll be okay - we're going to live with him -_

_"Expecto patronum!"_ we gasped.

By the feeble light of our formless Patronuses, we saw a couple of dementors halt, very close to us. They couldn't walk through the clouds of silver mist Harry and I had conjured. A couple dead, slimy hands slid out from under the cloaks. They made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronuses aside.

"No - _no_ -" Harry and I gasped. "He's innocent..._expecto - expecto patronum -_"

I could feel them watching us, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around us. The nearest dementor seemed to be comsidering us. Then it raised both its rotting hands - and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, gray scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth...a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.

A paralyzing terror filled me so that I couldn't move or speak. Our Patronuses flickered and died.

White fog was blinding us. We had to fight..._expecto patronum_...we couldn't see...and in the distance, we heard the familiar screaming..._expecto patronum_...I could feel myself fall onto my side and groped in the mist for Sirius, and found his arm...they weren't going to take him...someone fell on top of me...a protective arm at my waist...

But something pulled the person off me and I weakly lifted my head. A dementor held Harry up by the neck. It were forcing his face upward...I could see it's breath flowing over his face...It was going to get rid of him first...I could hear my mother screaming...I reached a weak hand out and hit the bottom part of it's robe..."Stop...Harry..."

And then, through the fog that was drowning me, I thought I saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter...I felt Harry fall next to me on the grass, facedown. I tilted my head, feeling sick and shaking and forced my eyes open wider. The dementor must have released him. The blinding light was illuminating the grass around us...The screaming had stopped, the cold was ebbing away...

Something was driving the dementors back...two somethings...They were circling around us, Sirius, and Hermione...They were leaving...The air was warm again...

With every ounce of strength I could master, I raised my head a few inches and saw a couple of animls amid the light, galloping away across the lake...Eyes blurred with sweat, I tried to make out what it was...It was as bright as a unicorn...Fighting to stay conscious, I watched them canter to a halt as they reached the opposite shore. For a moment, I saw, by their brightness, somebody welcoming them back...raising their hands to pat them...two people who looked strangely familiar...but it couldn't be...

I didn't understad. I couldn't think anymore. I felt the last of my strength leave me, and my head rolled into a warm body as I fainted.


	21. Hermione's Secret

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Hermione's Secret**

"Shocking business...shocking...miracle none of them died...never heard the like...by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape..."

"Thank you, Minister."

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!"

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there...Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Power, Weasley, and Granger, Minister..."

_"No!"_

"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape...They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a great deal before now...I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves...and of course Potter and Power have always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster -"

"Ah, well, Snape...Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, you know...we've all got a bit of a blind spot where they're concerned."

"And yet - is it good for them to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat them like any other student. And any other student would be suspended - at the very least - for leading their friends into such danger. Consider, Minister - against all school rules - after all the precautions put in place for their protection - out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer - and I have reason to believe they have been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too -"

"Well, well...we shall see, Snape, we shall see...Those two have undoubtedly been foolish..."

I lay listening with my eyes tightly shut. I felt very groggy. The words I was hearing seemed to be traveling very slowly from my ears to my brain, so that it was difficult to understand...My limbs felt like lead; my eyelids too heavy to lift...I wanted to lie there, on this comfortable bed, forever...

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the dementors...you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister...by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances..."

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry and Cheyenne, and the girl -"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

There was a pause. My brain seemed to be moving a little faster, and as it did, a gnawing sensation grew in the pit of my stomach...

I opened my eyes.

Everything was slightly blurred. Somebody had removed my glasses. I was lying in the dark hospital wing. At the very end of the ward, I could make out Madam Pomfrey with her back to me, bending over a bed. I squinted. Ron's red hair was visible beneath Madam Pomfrey's arm.

I lifted my head some. In the bed to my right lay Harry. I turned my head. To my left lay Hermione. Moonlight was falling across her bed. Her eyes were open too. She looked petrified, and when she saw that I was awake, pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed to the hospital wing door. It was ajar, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Snape were coming through it from the corridor outside.

Madam Pomfrey now came walking briskly up the dark ward to Harry's bed. I turned to look at her. She was carrying the largest block of chocolate I had ever seen in my life. It looked like a small boulder.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly. She placed the chocolate on Harry's bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.

"How's Ron?" Harry, Hermione, and I asked together.

"He'll live," Madam Pomfrey said grimly. "As for you three...you'll be stay here until I'm satisfied you're - Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

Harry was sitting up, putting his glasses back on, and picking up his wand. I sat up too and pushed my glasses on.

"We need to see the headmaster," he said.

"Potter," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, "it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now -"

"WHAT?"

Harry and I jumped up out of bed; Hermione had done the same. But our shouts had been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Cornelius Fudge and Snape had entered the ward.

"Harry, Cheyenne, what's this?" Fudge said, looking agitated. "You both should be in bed - have they had any chocolate?" he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"Minister, listen!" Harry and I said. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's -"

But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

"Harry, Cheyenne, you're both very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control..."

"YOU HAVEN'T!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Minister, listen, please," Hermione said; she had hurried to my and Harry's side and was gazing imploringly into Fudge's face. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and -"

"You see, Minster?" Snape said. "Confunded, all three of them...Black's done a very good job on them..."

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" I yelled.

"Minister! Professor!" Madam Pomfrey said angrily. "I must insist that you leave. Potter and Power are my patients, and they should not be distressed!"

"We're not distressed, we're trying to tell them what happened!" Harry said furiously. "If they'd just listen -"

But Madam Pomfrey suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Harry's mouth; he choked, and she seized the opportunity to force him back onto the bed. She turned to me and I squeaked and sat on his bed too, folding my hands in my lap. She gave me a piece of chocolate and I nibbled it.

"Now, _please_, Minister, these children need care. Please leave -"

The door opened again. It was Dumbledore. I stuffed the rest of the chocolate in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed and stood with Harry again.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black -"

"For heaven's sake!" Madam Pomfrey said hysterically. "Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist -"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter, Miss Power, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore said calmly. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black -"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter and Power's minds?" Snape spat. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive -"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," Dumbledore said, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon spectacles.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" Snape snarled. "Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" Hermione said earnestly. "You didn't arrive in time to hear -"

"Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"Don't speak to her like that, _Professor_, she was just trying to tell you what happened and you will not hear a word of it because of your huge ego and thick skull!" I snapped back.

"How dare you speak to me like, that Miss Power. You will show the proper respect to your professor." Snape snarled.

"Now, Snape," Fudge said, startled, "the young ladies are disturbed in their minds, we must make allowances -"

"I would like to speak to Harry, Cheyenne, and Hermione alone," Dumbledore said abruptly. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy - please leave ut."

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey sputtered. "They need treatment, they need rest -"

"This cannot wait," Dumbledore said. "I must insist."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her. Fudge consulted the large gold pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.

"The dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs."

He crossed to the door and held it open for Snape, but Snape hadn't moved.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face.

"I wish to speak to Harry, Cheyenne, and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated.

Snape took a step toward Dumbledore.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. It closed behind them, and Dumbledore turned to Harry, Hermione, and I. We all burst into speech at the same time.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth - we _saw_ Pettigrew -"

"- he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf -"

"- he's a rat -"

"- Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off -"

"- Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius -"

But Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explainations.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time," he said quietly. "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word - and the word of two thirteen-year-olds and a fourteen-year-old will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' and Powers' Secret-Keeper."

"Professor Lupin can tell you -" Harry said, unable to stop himself.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little - and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends -"

"But -"

_"Listen to me, Harry._ It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours."

"His version is very baised! He hates Sirius!" I said desperately. "All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him -"

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady - entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife - without Pettigrew, dead or alive, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence."

_"But you believe us."_

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore said quietly. "But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic..."

I stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath me was falling sharply away. I had grown used to the idea that Dumbledore could solve anything. I had expected Dumbledore to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no...our last hope was gone. I choked back a sob and turned to bury my face in Harry's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, but I could see he had no clue he'd done it.

"What we need," Dumbledore said slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry and I to Hermione, "is more _time_."

"But -" Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round, "OH!"

"Now, pay attention," Dumbledore said, speaking very low, and very clearly. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, all three of you: _you must not be seen._ Miss Granger, you know the law - you know what is at stake..._You - must - not - be - seen."_

Neither Harry nor I had a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door.

"I am going to lock you in. It is -" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Harry and I repeated as the door closed behind Dumbledore. "Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"

But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.

"Harry, Chey, come here," she said urgently. _"Quick!"_

Harry and I moved toward her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out. We saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass hanging from it.

"Here -"

She had thrown the chain around our necks too.

"Ready?" she asked breathlessly.

"What are we doing?" Harry and I asked, completely lost.

Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.

The dark ward dissolved. Harry and I had the sensation that we were flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past us, my ears were pounding, I tried to yell but couldn't hear my own voice -

And then I felt solid ground beneath my feet, and everything came into focus again -

I was standing next to Harry and Hermione in the deserted hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. I looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into my neck.

"Hermione, what -?"

"In here!" Hermione seized my and Harry's arms and dragged us across the hall to the door of a broom closet; she opened it, pushed us inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind us.

"What - how - Hermione, what happened?"

"We've gone back in time," Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off my and Harry's necks in the darkness. "Three hours back..."

I found my own arm and gave it a very hard pinch. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that I was having a very bizarre dream.

"But -"

"Shh! Listen! Someone's coming! I think - I think it might be us!"

Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door.

"Footsteps across the hall...yes, I think it' us going down to Hagrid's!"

"Are you telling us," Harry and I whispered, "that we're here in this cupbord and we're out there too?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her ear still glued to the cupboard door. "I'm sure it's us. It doesn't sound like more than four people...and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloaks -"

She broke off, still listening intently.

"We've gone down the front steps..."

Hermione sat down on an upturned bucket, looking desperately anxious, but Harry and I wanted a few questions answered.

"Where did you _get_ that hourglass thing?"

"It's called a Time- Turner," Hermione whispered, "and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies...I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see? But...

"Harry, Chey, _I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do._ Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?"

I stared at her shadowy face and something suddenly came to me...what I'd seen in the Orb during my final for Divination.

"There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change," Harry said slowly before I could speak. "What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago..."

"This _is_ three hours ago, and we _are_ walking down to Hagrid's," Hermione said. "We just heard ourselves leaving..."

I saw Harry frown; he looked as though he was screwing up his whole brain in concentration.

"Um, I - I think I know..." I said softly. I explained about my final exam results for Divination.

"So...we could save Buckbeak!" Harry said as I finished. "That's what Dumbledore meant by saving more than one innocent life!"

"But - how will that help Sirius?"

"Dumbledore said - he just told us where the window is - the window of Flitwick's office! Where they've got Sirius locked up! We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak - they can escape together!"

From what Harry and I could see of Hermoine's face, she looked terrified.

"If we manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!"

"Well, we've got to try, haven't we?" Harry said. He stood up and pressed his ear against the door.

"Doesn't sound like anyone's there...Come on, let's go..."

Harry pushed open the closet door. I got up and peeked out. The entrance hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as we could, we darted out of the closet and down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest glided once more with gold.

"If anyone's looking out of the window -" Hermione squeaked, looking up at the castle behind us.

"We'll run for it," Harry said determinedly. "Straight into the forest, all right? We'll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout -"

"Okay, but we'll go around by the greenhouses!" Hermione said breathlessly. "We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid's by now!"

Silently working out what she meant, I followed after Harry at a sprint, Hermione behind me. We tore across the vegetable gardens to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as we could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing toward the shelter of the forest...

Safe in the shadows of the trees, Harry turned around and caught me as I barreled into him; seconds later, Hermione arrived beside us, panting.

"Right," she gasped. "We need to sneak over to Hagrid's...Keep out of sight..."

We made out way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as we glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, we heard a knock upon his door. We moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And I heard Harry's voice.

"It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloaks. Let us in and we can take them off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," I said fervently.

"Let's move along a bit," Hermione whispered. "We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"

We crept through the trees until we saw the nervous hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

"Now?" Harry whispered.

"No!" Hermione and I said. "If we steal him now, those Committe people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

"That's going to give us about sixty seconds," Harry said. This started to seem impossible.

At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Hagrid's cabin.

"That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug," Hermione whispered. "I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment -"

Sure enough, a few minutes later, we heard Hermione's shriek of surprise.

"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, "what if we - we just run in there and grab Pettigrew -"

"No!" Hermione said in a terrified whisper. "Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen -"

"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!"

"Harry, Hermione's right, we can't! What do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?" I said.

"I'd - I'd think I'd gone mad," Harry said, "or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on -"

_"Exactly!_ You wouldn't understand, you might even attack yourself! Don't you see? Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time...Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!"

"Okay!" Harry said. "It was just an idea, I just thought -"

But I suddenly nudged them both, staring with wide eyes toward the castle. Harry and Hermione moved their heads a few inches to get a clear view of the distant front doors. Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Macnair the executioner were coming down the steps.

"We're about to come out!" Hermione breathed.

And sure enough, moments later, Hagrid's back door opened, and I saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, and myself walking out of it with Hagrid. It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of my life, standing behind the tree, and watching myself in the pumpkin patch.

"It's okay, Beaky, it's okay...," Hagrid said to Buckbeak. Then he turned to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. "Go on. Get goin'."

"Hagrid, we can't -"

"We'll tell them what really happened -"

"They can't kill him -"

"It doesn't feel right -"

"Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

I watched the Hermione and myself in the pumpkin patch throw the Invisbility Cloaks over Harry and Ron.

"Go quick. Don' listen..."

There was a knock on Hagrid's front door. The execution party had arrived. Hagrid turned around and headed back into his cabin, leaving the back door ajar. I watched the grass flatten in patches all around the cabin and heard four pairs of feet retreating. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had gone...but the Harry, Hermione, and I hidden in the trees could now hear what was happening inside the cabin through the back door.

"Where is the beast?" came the cold voice of Macnair.

"Out - outside," Hagrid croaked.

I pulled Harry back out of sight as Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's windows, staring out at Buckbeak. Then we heard Fudge.

"We - er - have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you're supposed to listen too, that's procedure -"

Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

"Wait here," Harry whispered to Hermione. "We'll do it."

As Fudge's voice started again, Harry and I darted out from behind our tree, vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak.

_"It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown -"_

Careful not to blink, Harry and I stared up into Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes once more and bowed. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry and I began to fumble with the knot of rope tying Buckbeak to the fence.

_"...sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair..."_

"Come on, Buckbeak," Harry murmured, "come on, we're going to help you. Quietly...quietly..."

_"...as witnessed below._ Hagrid, you sign here..."

Harry and I threw all our weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front feet.

"Well, let's get this over with," said the reedy voice of the Committe member from inside Hagrid's cabin. "Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you say inside -"

"No, I - I wan' ter be with him...I don' wan' him ter be alone -"

Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.

_"Buckbeak, move!"_ Harry and I hissed.

Harry and I tugged harder on the rope around Buckbeak's neck. The hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. We were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door.

"One moment, please, Macnair," came Dumbledore's voice. "You need to sign too." The footsteps stopped. Harry and I heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster.

Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree.

"Harry, Chey, hurry!" she mouthed.

Harry and I could still hear Dumbledore's voice talking from within the cabin. We gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. We had reached the trees...

"Quick! Quick!" Hermione moaned, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster. Harry and I looked over our shoulders; we were now blocked from sight; we couldn't see Hagrid's cabin at all.

"Stop!" we whispered to Hermione. "They might hear us -"

Hagrid's back door had opened with a bang. Harry, Hermione, Buckbeak, and I stood quite still; even the hippogriff seemed to be listening intently.

Silence...then -

"Where is it?" the reedy voice of the Committee member said. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here!" the executioner said furiously. "I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," Dumbledore said. There was a note of amusement in his voice.

"Beaky!" Hagrid said huskily.

There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. And then came the howling, and this time we could hear Hagrid's words through his sobs.

"Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's _gone_! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to Hagrid. Harry, Hermione, and I tightened our grip and dug our heels into the forest floor to stop him.

"Someone untied him!" the executioner was snarling. "We should search the grounds, the forest -"

"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him way on foot?" Dumbledore said, still sounding amused. "Search the skies, if you will...Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

"O' - o' course, Professor," Hagrid said, who sounded weak with happiness. "Come in, come in..."

Harry, Hermione, and I listened closely. We heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.

"Now what?" Harry whispered, looking around.

"We'll have to hide in here," Hermione said, looking very shaken. "We need to wait until they've gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius's window. He won't be there for another couple of hours...Oh, this is going to be difficult..."

She looked nervously over her shoulder into the depths of the forest. The sun was setting now.

"We're going to have to move," Harry said, thinking hard. "We've got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won't know what's going on."

"Okay," Hermione said, getting a firmer grip on Buckbeak's rope. "But we've got to keep out of sight, Harry, remember..."

We moved around the edge of the forest, darkness falling thickly around us, until we were hidden behind a clump of trees through which we could make out the Willow.

"There's Chey and Ron!" Harry said suddenly.

A couple of dark figures were sprinting across the lawn and one of them was shouting, the shouts echoing through the still night air.

"Chey! Where are you going - Give him back - Scabbers!"

And then we saw two more figures materialize out of nowhere. I watched Harry and Hermione chasing after Ron and I. Then we saw Ron grab the back of my shirt and we fell forward onto the grass. We saw Ron and I sturggling, me fighting against him as I tried to keep a hold on Scabbers. Crookshanks leapt into the fray and got Ron off me. I sat up and pulled soemthing from my pocket, which I stuffed Scabbers into and showed to Ron. I couldn't hear what I said, but it had to be something about the rat in the thing in my hand.

"There's Sirius!" I said. The great shape of the dog had bounded out form the roots of the willow. We saw him bowl Harry over, then seize me...

"Looks even worse from here, doesn't it?" Harry said, watching the dog pulling Ron and I into the roots. "Ouch - look, I just got walloped by the tree - and so did you - this is _weird_ -"

The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; we could see them darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.

"That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," Hermione said.

"And there we go...," Harry muttered. "We're in."

The moment they disappeared, the tree began to move again. Seconds later, we heard footsteps quite close by. Dumbledore, Macnair, Fudge, and the old Committee member were making their way up to the castle.

"Right after we'd gone down into the passage!" Hermione said. "If _only_ Dumbledore had come with us..."

"Macnair and Fudge would've come too," Harry and I said bitterly. "I bet you anything Fudge would've told Macnair to murder Sirius on the spot..."

We watched the four men climb the castle steps and disappear from view. For a few minutes the scene was deserted. Then -

"Here comes Lupin!" I said as we saw another figure sprinting down the stone steps and haring toward the Willow. Harry looked up at the sky and I glanced up. Clouds were obscuring the moon completely.

We watched Lupin seize a broken branch from the ground and prod the knot on the trunk. The tree stopped fighting, and Lupin, too, disappeared into the gap in its roots.

"If he'd only grabbed the cloaks," Harry said. "They're just lying there..."

He turned to Hermione and I.

"If I just dashed out now and grabbed it, Snape's never be able to get it and -"

"Harry, _we mustn't be seen_!"

"How can you stand this?" he asked Hermione fiercely. "Just standing here and watching it happen?" He hesitated. "I'm going to grab the cloaks!"

"Harry, _no_!"

Hermione and I seized the back of Harry's robes not a moment too soon. Just then, we heard a burst of song. It was Hagrid, making his way up to the castle, singing at the top of his voice, and weaving slightly as he walked. A large bottle was swinging from his hands.

_"See?"_ I whispered softly. _"See what would have happened?_ Harry, Hermione is absolutely right, we've got to keep out of sight! _No, Buckbeak!"_

The hippogriff was making frantic attempts to get to Hagrid again; Harry and Hermione seized his rope too, straining to hold Buckbeak back. We watched Hagrid meander tipsily up to the castle. He was gone. Buckbeak stopped fighting to get away. His head drooped sadly.

Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again, and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow.

I could see Harry's fists clench as we watched Snape skid to a halt next to the tree, looking around. He grabbed the cloaks and held them up.

I felt a sudden boil of rage.

"Get your filthy hands off them," Harry snarled under his breath.

"Shh!"

Snape seized the branch Lupin had used to freeze the tree, prodded the knot, and vanished from view as he put on one of the cloaks.

"So that's it," Hermione said quietly. "We'll all down there...and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again..."

She took the end of Buckbeak's rope and tied it securely around the nearest tree, then sat down on the dry ground, arms around her knees.

"Harry, Chey, there's something I don't understand...Why didn't the dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out...there were so many of them..."

Harry and I sat down too. We explained what we'd seen; how, as the nearest dementor had lowered its mouth to Harry's, a couple of large, silver somethings had come galloping aacross the lake and forced the dementors to retreat.

Hermione's mouth was slightly open by the time Harry and I had finished.

"But what were they?"

"There's only one thing they could have been, to make the dementors go," I said. "Real Patronuses. Powerful ones."

"But who conjured them?"

Neither Harry nor I said anything. We looked at each other, thinking back to the people we'd seen on the other bank of the lake. We knew who we though it had been...but how _could_ it have been?

"Didn't either of you see what they looked like?" Hermione said eagerly. "Was it a couple of the teachers?"

"No," Harry said. "They weren't teachers."

"But it must have been really powerful wizards, to drive all those dementors away...If the Patronuses were shining so brightly, didn't it light them up? Couldn't either of you see -?"

"Yeah, we saw them," Harry and I said slowly. "But...maybe we imagined them...We weren't thinking straight...we passed out right afterward...

_"Who did you think it was?"_

"We think -" Harry and I swallowed, knowing how strange this was going to sound. "We think it was our dads."

Harry and I glanced up at Hermione and saw that her mouth was fully open now. She was gazing at us with a mixture of alarm and pity.

"Harry, Chey, your dads' - well - _dead_," she said quietly.

"We know that," Harry said quickly.

"You both think you saw their ghosts?"

"We don't know...no...they looked solid..."

"But then -"

"Maybe we were seeing things," I said. "But...from what we could see...it looked like them...We've got photos of them..."

Hermione was still looking at us as though worried about our santiy.

"We know it sounds crazy," Harry said flatly. He turned to look at Buckbeak as I rubbed his back. The hippogriff was digging his beak into the ground, apparently searching for worms, but I could see he wasn't really watching Buckbeak.

I started to think about my and Harry's fathers and about both our father's three oldest friends...Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Swiftfall...Had all five of them been out on the grounds tonight? Wormtail had reappeared this evening when everyone had thought he was dead...Was it so impossible our fathers had done the same? Had we been seeing things across the lake? The figures had been too far away to see distinctly...yet we had felt sure, for moment, before we'd lost consciousness...

The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned toward the Willow, waiting.

And then, at last, after over an hour...

"Here we come!" Hermione whispered.

She, Harry, and I got to our feet. Buckbeak raised his head. We saw Lupin, Ron, and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came Hermione...then the unconscious Snape, drifting weirdly upward. Next came Harry, Sirius, and I. We all began to walk toward the castle.

My heart started to race. I glanced up at the sky just as Harry did. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon...

"Harry, Chey," Hermione muttered as though she knew exactly what we were thinking, "we've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do..."

"So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again..." Harry and I said quietly.

"How do either of you expect to find a rat in the dark?" Hermione snapped. "There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius; we're not supposed to be doing anything else!"

_"All right!"_

The moon slid out from behind its cloud. We saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then we saw movement -

"There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered. "He's transforming -"

"Hermione!" Harry said suddenly. "We've got to move!"

"We mustn't, I keep telling you -"

"Not to interfere! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!"

Hermione gasped.

"Quick!" she moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. "Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The dementors will be coming any moment -"

"Back to Hagrid's!" I said suddenly. "It's empty now - come on!"

We ran as fast as we could, Buckbeak cantering along behind us. We could hear the werewolf howling behind us...

The cabin was in sight; Harry skid to the door, wrenched it open, and Hermione, Buckbeak and I flashed past him; Harry threw himself in after us and bolted the door. Fang the boarhound barked loudly.

"Shh, Fang, it's us!" Hermione said, hurrying over and scratching his ears to quieten him. "That was really close!" she said to Harry and I.

"Yeah..."

Harry and I were looking out of the window. It was much harder to see what was going on from here. Buckbeak seemed very happy to find himself back inside Hagrid's house. He lay down in front of the fire, folded his wings contentedly, and seemed ready for a good nap.

"I think we'd better go outside again, you know," Harry said slowly as he took my hand. "We can't see what's going on - we won't know when it's time -"

Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious.

"We're not going to try and interfer," Harry said quickly. "But if we don't see what's going on, how're we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?"

"Well...okay, then...I'll wait here with Buckbeak...but Harry, Chey, be careful - there's a werewolf out there - and the dementors -"

Harry and I stepped outside again and edged around the cabin. We could hear yelping in the distance. That meant the dementors were closing in on Sirius...We and Hermione would be running to him any moment...

Harry and I stared out toward the lake, our hearts doing a kind of double drumroll in our chests...Whoever had sent those Patronuses would be appearing at any moment...

For a fraction of a second we stood, irresolute, in front of Hagrid's door. _You must not be seen_. But we didn't want to be seen. We wanted to do the seeing...We had to know...

And there were the dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake...They were moving away from where Harry and I stood, to the opposite bank...We wouldn't have to get near them...

Harry and I began to run. We had no thought in our heads except our fathers...If it was them...if it really was them...we had to know, had to find out...

The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was a no sign of anybody. On the opposite bank, we could see tiny glimmers of silver - our own attempts at Patronuses -

There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry and I threw ourselves behind it, peering desperately through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. A terrified excitement shot through us - any moment now -

"Come on!" we muttered, staring about. "Where are you? Dad, come on -"

But no one came. Harry and I raised our heads to look at the circle of dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear - but no one was coming to help this time -

And then it hit us at the same time - we understood. We hadn't seen our fathers - we had seen _ourselves_ -

Harry and I flung ourselves out from behind the bush and pulled out our wands, squeezing each other's hands and standing back to back.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ we yelled.

And out of the ends of our wands burst, not shapeless clouds of mist, but blinding, dazzling, silver animals. We screwed up our eyes, trying to see what they were. One looked like a horse. The other a wolf. They were galloping silently away from us, across the black surface of the lake. We saw the larger one lower its head and charge at the swarming dementors...Now they were galloping around and around the black shapes on the ground, going opposite each other, and the dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness...They were gone.

The Patronuses turned. They were cantering back toward Harry and I across the still surface of the water. The larger wasn't a horse. It wasn't a unicorn, either. It was a stag. The smaller was a wolf, almost Sirius's size when he was in Animagus form. They were shining brightly as the moon above...they were coming back to us...

They stopped on the bank. Neither hooves nor paws made marks on the soft ground as they stared at Harry and I with their large, silver eyes. Slowly, they bowed their antlered and furry heads. And Harry and I realized...

_"Prongs/Swiftfall," _we whispered.

But as our trembling fingertips stretched toward the creatures, they vanished.

Harry and I stood there, hands still outstretched. Then, with a great leap of our hearts, we heard hooves behind us - we whirled around and saw Hermione dashing toward us, dragging Buckbeak behind her.

_"What did you two do?"_ she asked fiercely. "You both said you were only going to keep a lookout!"

"We just saved all our lives...," Harry said. "Get behind here - behind this bush - we'll explain."

Hermione listened to what had just happened with her mouth open yet again.

"Did anyone see you?"

"Yes, haven't you been listening? _We_ saw us but we thought we were our dads! It's okay!"

"Harry, Chey, I can't believe it...You both conjured up Patronuses that drove away all those dementors! That's very, _very_ advanced magic..."

"We knew we could do it this time," Harry and I said, "because we'd already done it...Does that make sense?"

"I don't know - Harry, Chey, look at Snape!"

Together we peered around the bush at the other bank. Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harry, Hermione, Sirius, and I onto them. A fifth stretcher, no doubt bearing Ron, was already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved us away toward the castle.

"Right, it's nearly time," Hermione said tensely, looking at her watch. "We've got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realizes we're missing..."

We waited, watching the moving clouds reflected in the lake, while the bush next to us whispered in the breeze. Buckbeak, bored, was ferreting for worms again.

"D' you reckon he's up there yet?" Harry asked, checking his watch. We looked up at the castle and began counting the windows to the right of the West Tower.

"Look!" Hermione whispered. "Who's that? Someone's coming back out of the castle!"

Harry and I stared through the darkness. The man was hurrying across the grounds, toward one of the entrances. Something shiny glinted in his belt.

"Macnair!" Harry said. "The executioner! He's gone to get the dementors! This is it, Hermione, Chey -"

Hermione put her hands on Buckbeak's back and Harry gave her a leg up. Then, she held her hand out and I took it before Harry helped me up. Then he placed his foot on one of the lower branches of the bush and climbed up behind me, in front of Hermione. I pulled Buckbeak's rope back over his neck and tied it to the other side of his collar like reins.

"Ready?" he whispered to Hermione. "You'd better hold on to me -"

Harry and I nudged Buckbeak's sides with our heels.

Buckbeak soared straight into the dark air. I gripped his flanks with my knees, feeling Harry's arms around my waist, the great wings rising powerfully beneath us; I could hear Hermione muttering behind me, saying, "Oh, no - I don't like this - oh, I _really_ don't like this -"

Harry and I urged Buckbeak forward. We were gliding quietly toward the upper floors of the castle...I pulled hard on the left-hand side of the rope, and Buckbeak turned. Harry was trying to count the windows flashing past -

"Whoa!" I said, pulling backward as hard as I could.

Buckbeak slowed down and we found ourselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that we kept rising up and down several feet as the hippogriff beat his wings to remain airborne.

"He's there!" Harry said, spotting Sirius as we rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.

Sirius looked up. Harry and I saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione called to him, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Harry's robes with her left hand.

_"Alohomora!"_

The window sprang open.

"How - how?" Sirius said weakly, staring at the hippogriff.

"Get on - there's not much time," I said, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold myself steady. "You've got to get out of here - the dementors are coming - Macnair's gone to get them."

Sirius placed a hand on either side of the window frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. It was lucky he was so thin. In seconds, he had managed to fling one leg over Buckbeak's back and pull himself onto the hippogriff behind Hermione.

"Okay, Buckbeak, up!" I said, shaking the rope. "Up to the tower - come on!"

The hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and we were soaring upward again, high as the top of the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements, and Harry, Hermione, and I slid off him at once.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," Harry panted. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone."

Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" Sirius croaked.

"He's going to be okay. He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick - go -"

But Sirius was still staring down at Harry and I.

"How can I ever thank -"

"GO!" Harry, Hermione, and I shouted together.

Sirius wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky.

"We'll see each other again," he said. "You are - you both are - truly your fathers' children, Harry, Cheyenne..."

He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Harry, Hermione, and I jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more...The hippogriff took off into the air...He and his rider became smaller and smaller as Harry and I gazed after them, squeezing each other's hands...then a cloud drifted across the moon...They were gone.


	22. Owl Post Again

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Owl Post Again**

"Harry! Chey!"

Hermione was tugging our sleeves, staring at her watch. "We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us - before Dumbledore locks the door -"

"Okay," Harry and I said, wrenching our gaze from the sky, "let's go..."

We slipped through the doorway behind us and down a tightly spiraling stone staircase. As we reached the bottom of it, we heard voices. We flattened ourselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the staircase.

"...only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties," Snape was saying. "The Kiss will be performed immediately?"

"As soon as Macnair returns with the dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the _Daily Prophet_ that we've got him at last...I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape...and once young Harry and Cheyenne're back in their right minds, I expect they'll want to tell the _Prophet_ exactly how you saved them..."

I felt the anger raise in me and opened my mouth to scream out when Harry's hand clamped down over my mouth and pulled me back against his chest, whispering soothingly. We caught a glimpse of Snape's smirk as he and Fudge passed our hiding place. Their footsteps died away. Harry, Hermione, and I waited a few moments to make sure they'd really gone, then started to run in the opposite direction. Down one staircase, then another, along a new corridor - then we heard a cackling ahead.

_"Peeves!"_ Harry muttered, grabbing Hermione's waist. "In here!"

We tore into a deserted classroom to our left just in time. Peeves seemed to be bouncing along the corridor in boisterous good spirits, laughing his head off.

"Oh, he's horrible," Hermione whispered, her ear to the door. "I bet he's all excited because the dementors are going to finish off Sirius..." She checked her watch. "Three minutes, Harry, Chey!"

We waited until Peeves's gloating voice had faded into the distance, then slid back out of the room and broke into a run again.

"Hermione - what'll happen - if we don't get back inside - before Dumbledore locks the door?" Harry panted.

"I don't want to think about it!" Hermione moaned, checking her watch again. "One minute!"

We had reached the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance. "Okay - I can hear Dumbledore," Hermione said tensely. "Come on, Harry, Chey!"

We crept along the corridor. The door opened. Dumbledore's back appeared.

"I am going to lock you in," we heard him saying. "It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, Harry, Hermione, and I ran forward. Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. "Well?" he said quietly.

"We did it!" Harry and I said breathlessly. "Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak..."

Dumbledore beamed at us.

"Well done. I think -" He listened intently for any sound within the hospitl wing. "Yes, I think you've gone too - get inside - I'll lock you in -"

Harry, Hermione, and I slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still lying motionless in the end bed. As the lock clicked behind us, Harry, Hermione, and I crept back to our own beds, Hermione tucking the Time-Turner back under her robes. A moment later, Madam Pomfrey came striding back out of her office.

"Did I hear the headmaster leave? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

She was in a very bad mood. Harry, Hermione, and I thought it best to accept our chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over us, making sure we ate it. But I could hardly swallow. Harry, Hermione, and I were waiting, listening, our nerves jangling...And then, as we all took a fourth piece of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, we heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above us...

"What was that?" Madam Pomfrey asked in alarm.

Now we could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door.

"Really - they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

I was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer -

"He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out -"

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE _OR_ DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS - HAS - SOMETHING - TO - DO - WITH - POTTER - AND - POWER!"

"Severus - be reasonable - Harry and Cheyenne have been locked up."

BAM.

The door of the hospital wing burst open.

Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself.

"OUT WITH IT, POWTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU TWO DO?"

"Professor Snape!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Snape, be reasonable," Fudge said. "This door's been locked, we just saw -"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry, Hermione, and I. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.

"Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER OR POWER!" Snape shrieked. "THEY DID IT, I KNOW THEY DID IT -"

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" Madam Pomfrey said, bristling. "I would have heard them!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry, Hermione, and Cheyenne are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind them, and stormed out of the ward.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," Fudge said, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

"Oh, he's no unbalanced," Dumbledore said quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

"He's not the only one!" Fudge puffed. "The _Daily Prophet_'s going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock! Well...I'd better go and notify the Ministry..."

"And the dementors?" Dumbledore asked. "They'll be removed from the school, I trust?"

"Oh yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent couple...Completely out of control...no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight...Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance..."

"Hagrid would like that," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry, Hermione, and I. As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office.

There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. We could see him sitting up, rubbing his head, looking around.

"What - what happened?" he groaned. "Harry? Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?"

Harry, Hermione and I looked at each other.

"You explain," Harry and I said as we helped ourselves to some more chocolate.

When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I left the hospital wing at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted castle. The sweltering heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Neither Ron nor Hermione felt like going, however, so they, Harry, and I wandered onto the grounds, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night and wondering where Sirius and Buckbeak were now. Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water, Harry and I lost the thread of the conversation as we looked across to the opposite bank. The stag and wolf had galloped toward us from there just last night...

A shadow fell across us and we looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at us.

"Know I shouldn' feel happy, after wha' happened las' night," he said. "I mean, Black escapin' again, an' everythin' - but guess what?"

"What?" we said, pretending to look curious.

"Beaky! He escaped! He's free! Bin celebratin' all night!"

"That's wonderful!" Hermione said, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing.

"Yeah...can't've tied him up properly," Hagrid said, gazing happily out over the grounds. "I was worried this mornin', mind...though he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin' las' night..."

"What?" Harry and I said quickly.

"Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" Hagrid said, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er - Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'...Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course.'

"He's _packing_?" Harry said, alarmed. "Why?"

"Leavin', isn' he?" Hagrid said, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin' again."

Harry scrambled to his feet and pulled me up as I stumbled to my feet too.

"We're going to see him," we said to Ron and Hermione.

"But if he's resigned -"

" - doesn't sound like there's anything we can do -"

"We don't care. We still want to see him. We'll meet you back here."

Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.

"I saw you both coming," Lupin said, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map.

"We just saw Hagrid," I said softly. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lupin said. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

_"Why?"_ Harry said. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?"

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry and I.

"No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives," He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he - er - _accidentally_ let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"You're not leaving just because of that!" Harry and I said.

Lupin smiled wryly.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents...They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry, Cheyenne. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...That must never happen again."

"You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" I said. "Please, don't go!"

Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry and I were trying to think of a good arguement to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you both saved a lot of lives last night, Harry, Cheyenne. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've both learned...Tell me about your Patronuses."

"How d'you know about that?" Harry and I said, distracted.

"What else could have driven the dementors back?"

Harry and I told Lupin what had happened. When we finished, Lupin was smiling again.

"Yes, Harry, your father was always a stag when he transformed, and Cheyenne, your father was a large dog," he said. "You both guessed right...that's why they're called them Prongs and Swiftfall.'

Lupin threw his last few book into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry and I.

"Here - I brought these from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Harry and I back the Invisibility Cloaks. "And..." He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you both back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you two, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it."

Harry took the map and we grinned.

"You told us Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Swiftfall would've wanted to lure us out of school...you said they'd have though it was funny."

"And so we would have," Lupin said, now reaching down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James and Mark would both have been highly disappointed if their son and daughter had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle."

There was a knock on the door. Harry and I hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloaks into our pockets.

It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn't look surprised to see Harry and I there.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he said.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty grindylow tank.

"Well - good-bye, Harry, Cheyenne," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you two. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage..."

Harry and I had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

"Good-bye, then, Remus," Dumbledore said soberly. Lupin shifted the grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and I and a swift smile, Lupin left the office.

Harry and I slowly sank into a couple of vacated chairs, staring glumly at the floor. We heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there.

"Why so miserable, Harry, Cheyenne?" he asked quietly. "You both should be very proud of yourselves after last night."

"It didn't make any difference," Harry said bitterly. "Pettigrew got away.

"Didn't make any difference?" Dumbledore said quietly. "It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You both helped uncover the truth. You two saved an innocent man from a terrible fate."

_Terrible_. Something stirred in my and Harry's memories. _Greater and more terrible than ever before_...Professor Trelawney's prediction!

"Professor Dumbledore - yesterday, when we were having our Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very - very strange."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore said. "Er - stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Yes...her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said...she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight...She said the servant would help him come back to power." Harry and I stared up at Dumbledore. "And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn't remember anything she'd said. Was it - was she making a real prediction?"

Dumbledore looked mildly impressed.

"Do either of you know, Harry, Cheyenne, I think she might have been," he said thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise..."

"But -" Harry and I looked at him, aghast. How could Dumbledore take this so calmly?

"But - we stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew! That makes it our fault if Voldemort comes back!"

"It does not," Dumbledore said quietly. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught either of you anything? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future ia a very difficult business indeed...Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that...You both did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life."

"But if he helps Voldemort back to power -!"

"Pettigew owes his life to you both. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debts...When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them...and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power."

"We don't want a connection with Pettigrew!" Harry and I said. "He betrayed our parents!"

"This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry, Cheyenne. But trust me...the time may come when you will both be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life."

Neither Harry nor I could imagine when that would be. Dumbledore looked as though he knew what we were thinking.

"I knew both your fathers very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry, Cheyenne," he said gently. "They would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it."

Harry and I looked at each other, then again at him. Dumbledore wouldn't laugh - we could tell Dumbledore...

"We thought it was our dads who'd conjured our Patronuses. We mean, when we saw ourselves across the lake...We thought we were seeing them."

"An easy mistake to make," Dumbledore said softly. "I expect you'll tire of hearing it, but you do look _extraordinarily _like James, Harry. Except for the eyes...you have your mother's eyes. And Cheyenne, you do have a mix of traits of your parents, but you are beautiful like your mother, yet your personality reminds me of Mark, in many ways."

Harry and I shook our heads.

"It was stupid, thinking it was them," we muttered. "We mean, we knew they were dead."

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your fathers are alive in you both, Harry and Cheyenne, and show themselves most plainly when you both have need of them. How else could you both produce those _particular _Patronuses? Prongs and Swiftfall rode again last night."

It took a moment for Harry and I to realize what Dumbledore had said.

"Last night Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi," Dumbledore said, smiling. "An extraordinary achievement - not least, keeping it quiet from me. And then I remembered the most unusual forms your Patronuses took, when they charged Mr. Malfoy down at your Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You know, Harry, Cheyenne, in a way, you both did see your fathers last night...You both found them inside yourselves."

And Dumbledore left the office, leaving Harry and I to our very confused thoughts.

Nobody at Hogwarts now knew the truth of what had happened the night that Sirius, Buckbeak, and Pettigrew had vanished except Harry, Ron, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, and I. As the end of term approached, Harry and I each heard many different theories about what had really happened, but none of them came close to the truth.

Malfoy was furious about Buckbeak. He was convinced that Hagrid had found a way of smuggling the hippogriff to safety, and seemed outraged tht he and his father had been outwitted by a gamekeeper. Percy Weasley, meanwhile, had much to say on the subject of Sirius's escape.

"If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!" he told the only person who would listen - his girlfriend, Penelope.

Though the weather was perfect, though the atmosphere cheerful, though we knew we had achieved the near impossible in helping Sirius to freedom, neither Harry nor I had ever approached the end of a school year in worse spirits.

We certainly weren't the only ones who were sorry to see Professor Lupin go. The whole of my and Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

"Wonder what they'll give us next year?" Seamus Finnigan said gloomily.

"Maybe a vampire," Dean Thomas suggested hopefully.

It wasn't only Professor Lupin's departure that was weighing on my and Harry's minds. We couldn't help thinking a lot about Professor Trelawney's prediction. We kept wondering where Pettigrew was now, whether he had sought sanctuary with Voldemort yet. But the thing that was lowering my and Harry's spirits most of all was the prospect of returning to the Dursleys. For maybe half an hour, a glorious half hour, we had believed we would be living with Sirius from now on...our parents' best friend...It would have been the next best thing to having our own fathers back. And while no news of Sirius was definitely good news, because it meant he had successfully gone into hiding, neither Harry nor I could help feeling miserable when we thought of the home we might have had, and the fact that it was now impossible.

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had passed every subject. Harry and I were amazed that we had got through Potions. We had a shrewd suspicion that Dumbledore might have stepped in to stop Snape failing us on purpose. Snape's behavior toward Harry and I over the past week had been quite alarming. Neither of us would have thought it possible that Snape's dislike for us could increase, but it certainly had. A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Snape's thin mouth every time he looked at either Harry or I, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around our throats.

Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to our spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. Even Harry and I managed to forget about the journey back to the Dursleys the next day as we ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave Harry, Ron, and I some surprising news.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

"But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" Ron said.

"I know," Hermione sighed, "but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time- Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again."

"I still can't _believe_ you didn't tell us about it," Ron said grumpily. "We're supposed to be your _friends_."

"I promised I wouldn't tell _anyone_," Hermione said severely. She looked around at Harry and I as we were watching Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain. Two whole months before we'd see it again...

"Oh, cheer up, Harry...Chey!" Hermione said sadly.

"We're okay," Harry and I said quickly. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about them too," Ron said. "Harry, Cheyenne, you've both got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now -"

"A _telephone_, Ron," Hermione said. "Honesty, _you_ should take Muggles Studies next year..."

Ron ignored her.

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry, Chey? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

This proposal had the effect of cheering both Harry and I up a great deal.

"Yeah...we bet the Dursleys'd be pleased to let us come...especially after what we did to Aunt Marge..."

Feeling considerably more cheerful, Harry and I joined Ron and Hermione in several games of Exploding Snap, and when the witch with the tea cart arrived, we bought ourselves each a very large lunch, though nothing with chocolate in it.

But it was late in the afternoon before the thing that made us truly happy turned up...

"Harry, Chey," Hermione said suddenly, peering over our shoulders. "What's that thing outside your window?"

Harry and I turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. Harry stood up for a better look and told us that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It looked like he'd just caught a very fluffy Snitch. He brought it carefully inside. The owl dropped its letter onto my lap and began zooming around our compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval and Elon ruffled his feathers, giving a hoot of what I suspected was laughter. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way.

I picked up the letter and Harry looked over my shoulder. It was addressed to Harry and I. I ripped open the letter, and we shouted, "It's from Sirius!"

"What?" Ron and Hermione said excitedly. "Read it aloud!"

_Dear Harry and Cheyenne,_

_I hope this finds you both before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell either of you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

_There is something I never got around to telling either of you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you both the Firebolts -_

"Ha!" Hermione said triumphantly. "See! I _told_ you they were from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't kinxed them, had he?" Ron said. "Ouch!" The tiny owl, now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

_Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your names but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as fourteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you both left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you two before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

_I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_If ever you need me, send word. Your owls will find me._

_I'll write again soon._

_Sirius._

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There were two more pieces of parchment in there. We read them through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though we'd just swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp each.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter/Cheyenne Power's godfather, hereby give him/her permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"These'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" Harry said happily. I looked back at Sirius's letter.

"Hang on, there's a P.S..."

_I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly.

"Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to my, Harry's, and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do'you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred.

"That's good enough for me," Ron said happily. "He's mine."

Harry and I read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. I was still clutched it tightly in my hand as he, Ron, Hermione, and I stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry and I spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged the two of us in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after us as Harry and I bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolleys bearing our trunks and Hedwig and Elon's cages toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted us in his usual fashion.

"What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope I was still clutching in my hand. "If it's another couple of forms for me to sign, you're both got another -"

"It's not," Harry said cheerfully. "It's a letter from our godfather."

"Godfather," Uncle Vernon sputtered. "Neither of you have a godfather."

"Yes, we have," Harry and I said brightly. "He was our mums and dads' best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with us, though. . .keep up with our news. . .check if we're happy. . . ."

And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry and I set off toward the station exit, Hedwig and Elon rattling along in front of us, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.


End file.
